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Brave  Belgians 


From  the  French  of 

Baron   C.   Buffin 

By 
Alys  Hallard 

Preface  by 
Baron  de  Broqueville 

Belgian  Minister  of  War 


Awarded  the  AudifiFred  Prize  by  the  French  Academy  of 
Mnral  and  Political  Science 


WiitU  thz  (S^ompXimznts 

0f  ^«0fje5soic  HXajcttJciH  ^ixon 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  and  London 

^be    IRnickerbocher    prees 

1918 


MAR '8         ^^^^^ 


Copyright,   1918 

BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Ube  ItnicJKcbocfccc  prcM,  "Rcw  Botfe 


-X: 


Foreword 

St.  Pierrebrouck. 
January   15,    1916. 

My  dear  Friend: 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  have  now  completed  the 
work  you  undertook  of  collecting,  from  our  soldiers 
themselves,  these  accounts  of  the  war.  They  will  cer- 
tainly help  people  to  know,  and  to  appreciate,  what 
you  so  rightly  call  our  heroic  and  valiant  Belgium. 

You  could  not  have  employed  your  talent  and  acti- 
vity in  a  better  way.  As  it  is  not  yet  possible  to  write 
the  History  of  the  tragic  days  we  are  living,  it  is 
highly  necessary  to  collect  the  most  striking  episodes, 
and  to  prevent  the  loss  of  testimony  to  which  posterity 
can  appeal  when  it  wishes  to  judge  the  men  and  things 
of  our  times.  The  accounts  that  you  have  collected 
so  patiently  help  us  to  live  over  again  the  whole  cam- 
paign, from  the  startling  revelation  which  the  glorious 
days  of  Liege  were  for  many  of  us,  down  to  the  hard 
moments  through  which  our  army  is  passing  in  its 
victorious  defence  of  the  Yser. 

"The  determined  resistance,"  our  King  called  it 
in  his  memorable  speech  to  Parliament.  How  we  see 
this  determined  resistance  in  the  magnificent  enthu- 
siasm of  our  soldiers,  arresting,  around  the  Liege 
forts,  the  first  wave  of  invaders,  without  troubling 
about  the  human  torrent  rolling  onwards  towards 
them  from  the  whole  of  Germany!     How  we  see  it, 


iv  Foreword 

too,  in  the  tragic  episodes  of  the  invasion,  in  the 
bold  adventures  of  our  volunteers,  in  those  glorious 
deaths  of  which  your  book  reminds  us,  deaths  of 
which  we  cannot  think  without  a  pang  at  our  hearts ! 

Your  accounts  prove  to  us  how  the  unanimous  will 
of  the  nation  galvanised  the  army  and  how  the  ex- 
ample of  our  chiefs,  from  the  King  down  to  the  merest 
sub-lieutenant,  encouraged  and  brought  about  the 
most  noble  self-sacrifices.  These  accounts  prove  to 
us,  thanks  to  many  details  of  episodes  lived  through 
during  these  eighteen  months  of  war,  what  a  quantity 
of  virtues  our  magnificent  little  army,  brave  and 
studious  as  it  is,  held  in  reserve  for  the  hour  of 
danger. 

Well-known  figures  and  deeply  regretted  friends 
are  evoked  in  these  pages  by  their  sorrowful  comrades. 
These  rapid  sketches,  written  in  campaign  diaries  by 
those  who "  shared  the  same  dangers  and  sacrificed 
everything  to  the  same  cause,  have  a  special  value. 
The  modesty  of  the  man  who  tells  the  story  is  still 
another  homage  rendered  to  the  whole  Corps,  and  it  is 
to  the  Army,  to  the  traditional,  disciplined,  national 
force,  that  our  admiration  goes  out,  when  we  read  of 
the  fine  deeds  described  in  this  book. 

On  reading  it,  the  country  will  better  understand 
the  affection  and  respect  it  owes  to  the  soldier  from 
whom  it  may  demand,  some  future  day,  all  that  those 
of  our  day  have  endured  and  given. 

In  your  former  book,  you  retraced  for  us  the  early 
life  of  Leopold  I.,  our  first  king.  When  I  congratu- 
lated you  on  your  conscientious  work,  in  depicting 
for  us  the  early  days  of  the  man  who  has  very  justly 
been  called  Leopold  the  Wise,  I  little  thought  that 
you  would  soon  be  the  chronicler  of  the  army  of  his 


Foreword  v 

grandson,  acknowledged  by  the  whole  world,  as  the 
champion  of  loyalty  and  honour,  the  incarnation  of 
an  oppressed  and  valiant  country. 

How  times  have  changed  since  then! 

The  horizon  is  brightening,  though,  and  I  hope 
that,  in  order  to  complete  your  work,  you  may  be 
able  to  connect  the  past  with  the  present  and  sketch 
for  us  the  History  of  this  gigantic  struggle,  in  which 
the  indomitable  courage  of  the  Belgians,  led  by  Albert 
I.,  will  have  preserved,  for  our  country,  the  Indepen- 
dence, and  the  Liberty  that  the  political  spirit  of  our 
fathers  had  won  for  it  under  the  reign  of  Leopold. 

Accept,  my  dear  friend,  my  best  wishes, 

Broqueville. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

PAGE 

The  Defence  of  Vis6  .         ,         .         .         i 

From  the  account  given  by  Deputy  Staff  Major 
Collyns  of  the  12  th  Line  Regiment. 

CHAPTER  II 

The  First  German  Flag  Taken  .         .       lo 

From  the  account  given  by  Deputy  Staff  Major 
Collyns  of  the  12th  Line  Regiment. 

CHAPTER  III 

The  Attack  on  the  Offices  of    the    3rd 

Division         ......       17 

From  accounts  by  General  Major  Stassin,  Comman- 
ders Vincotte  and  Buisset,  Captains  Lhermite  and 
Renard,  Adjutant  Burlet  and  Private  Poncelet. 

CHAPTER  IV 

The  Sart-Tilman  Combat    ....       24 

From  an  account  given  by  P^re  de  Groote,  Army 
Chaplain   to   the    1st    Regiment    of    Unmounted 

Chasseurs,  and  completed  by  Major  N of  the 

4th  Regiment  of  Unmounted  Chasseurs. 

CHAPTER  V 

The  Retreat  of  the  800     ....       34 

By  Captain of  the  14th  Line  Regiment. 

CHAPTER  VI 

Chaudfontaine    .         .         .         .         ,         .41 

By  Count  Gaston  de  Ribaucourt,  Sub-Lieutenant  of 
the  Heavy  Howitzer  Corps. 


viii  Contents 

CHAPTER  VII 

PAGE 

LoNciN  Fort 51 

From  accounts  by  the  Army  Doctors:  Maloens,  of 
the  3rd  Battery  of  Heavy  Howitzers;  Courtin,  of  the 
1st  Chasseurs;  Roskam,  of  the  14th  Line  Regiment; 
Defalle,  Director  of  the  Calais  Municipal  Creche 
Ambulance;  and  Quartermaster  Krantz,  of  the 
Gendarmerie. 

CHAPTER  VIII 

Haelen        .......       63 

By  Colonel  Baltia,  Chief  of  Staff  of  the  ist  Cavalry 
Division. 

CHAPTER  IX 

The  Budingen  Combat        ....       77 

Death  of  Lieutenant  Count  W.  d'Ursel.  By  Colonel 
de  Schietere  de  Lophem,  Commander  of  the  4th 
Lancers. 

CHAPTER  X 

Aerschot      .......       87 

From  the  report  of  Captain  Commander  Gilson,  com- 
manding the  4th  Company  of  the  ist  Battalion  of 
the  9th  Line  Regiment. 

CHAPTER  XI 

A  Few  Episodes  of  the  Retreat  of  Namur  .      96 

By  Captain  PauHs,  Artillery  Commander. 
CHAPTER  XII 

Death  of  Corporal  Tresignies  .         .         .113 

From  the  account  given  by  First  Sergeant- Major 

of  the  2nd  Regiment  of  Unmounted  Chasseurs. 


Contents  ix 

CHAPTER  XIII 

PAGE 

The  First  Attack  of  the  Retrenched  Camp 

OF  Antwerp  .         .         .         .         .116 

By  Father  Il^nusse,  S.  J.,  Army  Chaplain  to  the  84th 
Artillery  Battery. 

CHAPTER  XIV 

The  Re-Taking  of  Aerschot       .         .         .122 

By  Sub-Lieutenant  Ch.  Dendale  of  the  7th  Line 
Regiment. 

CHAPTER  XV 

A  Fine  Capture  .         .         ,         .         .         .127 

By  Staff  Deputy  Captain  Courboin. 
CHAPTER  XVI 

The  Second  Sortie  from  Antwerp      .         .131 

Episode  of  the  Battle  before  Over-de-Vaert  (Haecht). 
By  Lieutenant  L.  Chardome  of  the  14th  Line 
Regiment. 

CHAPTER  XVII 
The  1ST  Regiment  of  Lancers    .         .         .140 

By  Staff  Deputy  Colonel  E.  Joostens. 
CHAPTER  XVIII 

The  Termonde  Bridge         .         .         ,         .150 

By  an  officer  of  the  4th  Artillery  Regiment. 
CHAPTER  XIX 

The  No.  7  Armoured  Car  .         .         .         .155 

By  Sub-Lieutenant  G.  Thiery,  of  the  ist  Regiment  of 
Guides,  in  command  of  the  group  of  armoured  cars 
of  the  1st  Cavalry  Division. 


X  Contents 

CHAPTER  XX 

PAGE 

The  Wavre-St.  Catherine  Comeat     .         .     169 

By  Sub-Lieutenant  Henroz,  in  command  of  the  ist 
Company  of  the  ist  Battalion  of  the  2nd  Regiment 
of  Fortress  Carabineers. 

CHAPTER  XXI 

The  Death-Struggle  of  Lierre  Fort  .     184 

By  an  officer  of  the  garrison. 

CHAPTER  XXII 

Prisoner  in  the  Soltau  Camp    .         .         .197 

From  the  account  given  by  Amand  Hasevoets,  First 
Sergeant  of  the  Regiment  of  Fortress  Grenadiers. 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

The  Last  Fragments  of  Antwerp       .         .     209 

By  Artillery  Captain  M C . 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

TOURNAI         .......      228 

By  General-Major  Frantz. 

CHAPTER  XXV 

DiXMUDE 236 

From  an  account  given  by  Ernest  Collin,  a  private  of 
the  1 2th  Line  Regiment,  and  completed  by  Ernest 
Job,  a  corporal  in  the  same  regiment. 

CHAPTER  XXVI 

Eight  Days  in  Dixmude      ....     256 

Extracts  from  the  Diary  of  an  Artillery  Observer,  by 
F.  de  Wilde  of  Brigade  B  (formerly  12th  Brigade). 


Contents  xi 

CHAPTER  XXVII 

PAGE 

Four  Hours  with  the  Boches    .         .         .271 

From  the  Diary  of  Dr.  van  der  Ghinst,  of  the  Cabour 
(Adinkerque)  Military  Ambulance,  and  an  account 
given  by  Leon  Deliens,  Private  of  the  nth  Line 
Regiment. 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 

The  Tervaete  Charge        .         .         .         .     283 

By  Artillery  Captain  M C . 

CHAPTER  XXIX 

A  Reconnaissance 287 

From  the  Diary  of  Father  Hdnusse,  S.  J.,  Chaplain  of 
the  84th  Battery. 

CHAPTER  XXX 

The  Irony  of  Fate 295 

By  M.  Sadsawska,  Civic  Guard,  MotorcycUst  of  the 
1st  Line  Regiment. 

CHAPTER  XXXI 

Observers   .......     299 

By  Artillery  Captain  M C . 

CHAPTER  XXXII 

A  Patrol     .......     3^2 

By  Artillery  Captain  M C . 

CHAPTER  XXXIII 

The  Death  March 3^9 

By  Doctor  Duwez,  Army  Surgeon  to  the  Regiment  of 
Grenadiers. 


xii  Contents 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 

PAGE 

Shelter  D.  A.     .  .         .         .         .     327 

By  Dr.  Duwez,  Army  Surgeon  to  the  Regiment  of 
Grenadiers. 

CHAPTER  XXXV 
Steenstraete 337 

By  Dr.  Duwez,  Army  Surgeon  to  the  Regiment  of 
Grenadiers. 

CHAPTER  XXXVI 

LiZERNE 340 

By  Dr.  Duwez,  Army  Surgeon  to  the  Regiment  of 
Grenadiers. 

CHAPTER  XXXVII 

Death  of  Sergeant  Count  Charles  d'An- 

sembourg   ......  344 

By  Dr.  Duwez,  Army  Surgeon  to  the  Regiment  of 
Grenadiers. 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII 
A  Guard  on  the  Yser  : — The  Death  Trench        350 

B}'  Corporal  J.  Libois,  of  the  I2th  Line  Regiment. 
CHAPTER  XXXIX 

Nieuport  in  Ruins 361 

By  Sub-Lieutenant  L.  Gilraont,  Director  of  the  Auto- 
mobile Park,  Ocean  Ambulance,  La  Panne. 

CHAPTER  XL 
The  St.  Elisabeth  Chapel  .         .         ,     368 

By  Marcel  Wyseur,  Registrar  to  the  Military-  Court. 
La  Panne,  August  26,  191 5. 


Brave  Belgians 


Brave   Belgians 


CHAPTER  I 
The  Defence  of  Vise 

From  the  Account  Given  by  Deputy  Staff  Major  Collyns 
of  the  i2th  line  regiment' 

In  order  that  the  reader  may  have  a  connected  idea  with 
regard  to  the  episodes  related  in  the  following  chapters,  the 
main  lines  of  the  preliminaries  of  the  war  must  be  remembered. 
On  the  2nd  of  August,  1914,  at  7  p.  m.,  Germany  presented  an 
ultimatum  to  Belgium.  The  Belgian  Government  rephed  at 
7  A.  M.  the  following  day  that  "  it  would  resist,  by  all  means 
within  its  power,  any  attempt  to  violate  the  rights  of  Belgium." 

On  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  August,  the  German  extreme 
right,  composed  of  12  Regiments  of  Cavalry  and  of  BattaHons  of 
Chasseurs,  brought  in  motor-cars,  crossed  the  frontier  and 
endeavoured  to  seize  the  Vis6  bridge.  This  attempt  did  not 
succeed.  The  enemy  then  extended  its  movement  in  a  northerly 
direction,  crossed  the  Meuse  at  the  Lexhe  ford  and  endeavoured 
to  crush  the  resistance  of  the  fortified  place  of  Liege.  On  the 
5th  of  August,  troops  of  the  3rd,  4th,  and  7th  Corps  made  an 
assault  on  that  part  of  the  defence  front  comprised  between  the 
Meuse  and  the  Vesdre.  Before  the  Barchon,  Evegn^e,  and  Fl^ron 
Forts,  the  assailants  were  driven  back  with  sanguinary  losses. 


*  Now    Lieutenant-Colonel,    Commander    of    the    1st    Line 
Regiment. 

I 


2  Brave  Belgians 

Between  the  Barchon  Fort  and  the  Meuse,  the  7th  Corps  broke 
through  the  hnes,  but  it  was  counter-attacked  by  the  nth 
Brigade  with  a  bayonet  charge,  and  thrown  back  in  absolute 
disorder  in  the  direction  of  the  Dutch  frontier. 

Fresh  assaults  began  in  the  night  between  the  5th  and  6th  of 
August.  Fresh  troops  belonging  to  the  8th,  9th,  loth,  and  nth 
Corps  took  part,  and  the  attack  extended  over  the  whole  ground 
between  the  Liers  Fort  and  the  Meuse,  above  Li^ge,  that  is  on 
a  front  of  about  22  miles. 

The  Belgian  troops  had  to  face  danger  on  every  side  at  the 
same  time  and,  after  a  most  heroic  defence,  the  3rd  Division  fell 
back,  exhausted.  The  Forts  continued  to  resist  and  the  last  one 
fell  on  the  17th  of  August. 

During  the  night  of  August  1-2,  1914,  Lieu- 
tenant-General  Leman,  Military  Governor  of  the 
fortified  position  of  Li^ge,  entrusted  to  me  the 
defence  of  the  Vise  and  Argenteau  bridges.  It  was 
an  important  mission,  as  German  forces  were  massed 
at  the  frontier  and  were  preparing  to  violate  our 
neutrality. 

I  hurried  to  the  barracks,  called  up  my  Battalion* 
of  about  four  hundred  men,  and  started  for  Vis^, 
where  I  arrived  at  seven  in  the  morning.  The  whole 
day  was  taken  up  in  organising  the  defence.  A  com- 
pany was  placed  at  each  of  the  bridges  of  Vis6  and 
Argenteau,  which  are  about  two  miles  apart;  a 
platoon  of  about  thirty  men  were  told  off  to  guard 
the  Lixhe  ford,  about  six  miles  to  the  north;  outposts 
were  sent  to  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  with  instruc- 
tions to  send  out  patrols  and  reconnaissances  in  the 
direction  of  the  frontier.  The  rest  of  the  Battalion 
remained  in  reserve  at  Haccourt.     The  soldiers  were 

'  The  Battalion,  at  that  mon^ent,  consisted  only  of  four  contin- 
gents of  militia,  as  the  general  mobilisation,  decreed  on  July  31st, 
was  not  yet  complete. 


The  Defence  of  Vis6  3 

enthusiastic  and  had  perfect  confidence.  Most  of 
them  looked  upon  the  war  as  a  kind  of  pleasure  party, 
which  would  relieve  the  monotony  of  their  barrack 
life,  and  their  good  humour  increased,  thanks  to  the 
cordial  welcome  they  received  from  the  population. 

In  the  evening,  Captain  Chaudoir  arrived  with 
about  sixty  men.  He  was  in  command  of  the  Mounted 
Chasseurs  of  the  Liege  Civic  Guard.  They  were  all 
brave  fellows,  cotirageous  and  ready  for  anything, 
but  their  equipm.ent  was  very  defective  and  they  were 
even  short  of  rifles.  I  accepted  their  services,  never- 
theless, and  entrusted  them  with  the  surveillance  of 
the  valleys  of  the  Meuse  and  the  Geer. 

The  inhabitants  of  Visd  also  offered  their  help. 

"I  am  a  good  shot,"  said  a  lawyer,  "and  I  want  to 
do  my  share.     Put  me  in  the  firing  line." 

"No,  I  cannot  have  any  civilians,  "  I  replied,  cate- 
gorically, and  I  sent  them  all  away. 

On  the  following  day,  August  3rd,  M.  Delattre 
arrived.  He  is  an  engineer,  a  specialist  in  explosives, 
and  he  had  been  sent  by  the  Staff  to  attend  to  the 
obstruction  of  the  right  bank  of  the  river  and  the 
destruction  of  the  bridges.  Groups  of  workmen, 
under  his  orders,  felled  trees  with  which  to  bar  the 
roads,  placed  mines  in  the  piles  and,  in  short,  put 
everything  in  readiness  for  the  blowing  up  of  the 
bridges,  if  necessary. 

This  fresh  responsibility  did  not  by  any  means 
lessen  my  anxiety.  It  was  very  difficult  to  realise 
what  the  situation  really  was.  The  most  extraordi- 
nary rumours  circulated  and  were  believed,  no  matter 
how  improbable  they  might  seem.  The  Staff  of  the 
3rd  Army  Division  announced  to  me,  by  telephone, 
that   German   troops  had   crossed    the   Netherlands 


4  Brave  Belgians 

and  were  advancing  through  Limbourg.  Thanks 
to  the  telephonic  communication  I  had  established 
with  the  gendarmerie  stations,  and  with  Lieutenant 
de  Menten,  who  was  on  the  watch  with  a  platoon 
of  the  2nd  Lancers,  near  the  Dutch  frontier,  I  ob- 
tained exact  information  with  regard  to  the  enemy's 
movements,  and  was  able  to  let  the  Commander 
of  the  Division  know  that  the  rumours  were  inex- 
act. They  had  been  invented  by  Boche  spies, 
and  circulated  by  scaremongers.  Towards  evening, 
General  Leman  warned  me  that  two  divisions  of  the 
enemy's  cavalry  had  invaded  our  territory.  He 
ordered  me  to  blow  up  the  Vise  and  Argenteau  bridges. 
I  transmitted  the  order  to  Delattre  and,  whilst  he 
was  making  his  final  arrangements,  I  withdrew  my 
outposts  from  the  right  bank  of  the  river  and,  for 
fear  of  accidents,  proceeded  to  evacuate  the  houses 
in  the  vicinity.  When  everything  was  quite  ready, 
Delattre  came  to  me. 

"You  can  make  your  mind  easy,"  he  said,  "we 
have  taken  the  precaution  to  put  a  double  charge, 
so  that  whatever " 

The  sound  of  an  explosion  interrupted  his  speech 
and  we  both  hurried  away  full  of  confidence.  Our 
disappointment  can  easily  be  imagined,  for  great 
blocks  of  macarite  had  not  exploded.  The  Vis^ 
bridge  was  weakened,  but  it  was  still  practicable  for 
carriages.  At  Argenteau,  I  was  told,  the  result  was 
no  better. 

"Bad  work!"  declared  a  Sergeant,  who  appeared  to 
be  as  mortified  as  I  was.  Several  civilians  were 
jeering.  I  pitched  into  them  and  that  soothed  my 
nerves. 

We  made  use  of  the  telephone  at  once  and  asked  the 


The  Defence  of  Vise  5 

Staff  at  Lidge  to  send  us  fresh  explosives  immediately. 
The  delay  seemed  to  us  interminable  and  we  wondered 
whether  we  should  be  surprised  by  the  enemy. 

The  motor-cars  arrived  at  last.  We  placed  the 
powder,  and  by  six  o'clock  all  the  necessary  measures 
were  taken.  This  time  the  explosion  was  formidable. 
Great  blocks  of  stone,  a  cubic  yard  in  diameter,  were 
flung  two  hundred  yards  away.  The  middle  of  the 
bridge,  about  fifty  yards  in  length,  fell  into  the  Meuse. 

A  most  unfortunate  accident  now  happened.  The 
shock  produced  by  the  explosion  destroyed  the  tele- 
graphic and  telephonic  lines  and  interrupted  all 
communications.  I  wondered  what  was  to  be  done. 
Was  my  mission  ended,  as  the  bridges  no  longer 
existed?  Ought  I  to  return  to  our  fortified  position 
of  Liege  or  stay  and  defend  the  passages  of  the  river? 

None  of  the  couriers  I  sent  to  General  Leman  came 
back.  I  was  therefore  obliged  to  decide  for  myself. 
I  was  there  and  I  determined  to  stay  there.  At  day- 
break, on  the  4th,  I  endeavoured  to  complete  the 
defence  by  utilising  the  houses  overlooking  the  bridges, 
as  from  them  it  would  be  possible  to  fight  the  enemy 
on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river.  My  information 
service  left  much  to  be  desired.  From  time  to  time, 
my  soldiers  crossed  the  river,  in  two  little  boats  which 
we  had  discovered  by  chance,  and  went  in  search  of 
news.  It  was  in  this  way  that  I  learnt  the  fact  that 
an  important  corps  of  the  enemy's  cavalry  was  at 
Berneau  and  that  it  was  followed,  at  a  short  distance 
by  a  strong  force  of  infantry. 

Suddenly,  we  heard  a  buzzing  overhead  and  a 
Taube  appeared  in  the  sky.  For  a  few  minutes  the 
sinister  bird  hovered  over  us,  flinging  down  General 
von  Emmich's  proclamations.     It  then  returned  to 


6  Brave  Belgians 

the  enemy's  lines,  taking  back  very  inexact  informa- 
tion. In  the  first  place,  it  could  not  see  my  troops 
hidden  behind  the  houses,  and  it  is  very  possible, 
thanks  to  its  height,  that  it  did  not  see  that  the 
bridge  was  destro3-ed,  as  the  middle  part  was  lying 
downwards  in  the  Meuse. 

Warned  by  the  aeroplane  I  modified  my  arrange- 
ments and  collected  all  my  forces  at  Vise,  with  the 
exception  of  one  Company  which  I  had  left  at  Argen- 
teau.  It  was  very  fortunate  that  I  acted  in  this  way, 
as,  at  one  o'clock,  some  Death's  Head  Hussars  ap- 
peared in  sight  and,  without  any  hesitation,  made 
straight  for  the  bridge.  My  soldiers  watched  them 
anxiously,  their  fingers  on  the  triggers  of  their  guns. 
"Wait,"  I  said,  "wait,  let  them  come  nearer."  As 
soon  as  I  saw  them  on  the  first  part  of  the  bridge,  I 
yelled  out  "Fire!"  "Piff!  Paff!  Piff!  Paff!"  .  .  . 
With  the  sudden  crackling  sound  of  the  firing,  the  ter- 
rified horses  reared,  kicked,  and  struggled,  and  the 
horsemen  rolled  into  the  river;  others,  turning  quickly 
around,  rushed  into  the  ranks  that  were  following,  col- 
lided with  them  and,  in  wild  flight,  escaped  through 
the  fields  of  clover  and  oats.  All  was  helter-skelter! 
Just  at  this  moment,  heavy  firing  began  from  the 
houses  on  the  right  bank  near  the  river.  Unseen  by 
us,  some  Germans  had  entered  these  buildings  and 
were  now  protecting  the  retreat  of  their  cavalry. 
From  one  bank  to  the  other,  the  firing  continued  at 
intervals,  but  without  much  damage  on  either  side. 
During  a  lull,  I  called  out  to  my  brave  men:  "Per- 
mission to  grill  one!"  Ah,  how  joyfully  they  revelled 
in  that  cigarette!  The  baptism  of  fire  had  not  pro- 
duced the  least  emotion.  They  were  all  smihng  and 
joking  with  each  other,  and  as  soon  as  the  enemy 


The  Defence  of  Vise  7 

recommenced  the  firing,  the  combat  continued  as 
gaily  as  possible. 

Sheltered  by  a  wall,  their  jerseys  unbuttoned,  the 
men  of  my  reserve  contingent  were  fortifying  them- 
selves by  devouring  bread  and  butter.  The  idea 
suddenly  occurred  to  me  to  try  an  experiment.  ' '  Well, ' ' 
I  said,  "are  you  not  proud  to  take  part  in  the  firing? 
As  you  see,  we  have  stopped  the  Boches.  It  is  not 
finished,  though,  and  just  now  I  shall  want  three  of 
you,  three  of  the  bravest,  who  fear  nothing.  Who 
volunteers?"  Before  I  had  finished  speaking,  every 
one  of  them  shouted:  "I  do,  Major." 

The  German  artillery  had  now  come  into  line.  Two 
or  three  batteries  on  the  slopes  of  Fouron,  to  the 
north-east  of  Visd,  had  opened  fire.  In  spite  of  my 
men's  courage,  I  felt  it  was  necessary  to  stimulate 
them  a  little.  They  were  only  four  hundred  strong 
and,  without  artillery  or  machine-guns;  they  were 
fighting  an  enemy  infinitely  superior.  I  went  to  all 
the  diflferent  shelters  and  affected  the  most  hilarious 
gaiety. 

"We  are  going  to  have  fine  fun,"  I  said  to  them. 
"The  Boches  have  never  yet  managed  to  fire  straight 
with  their  cannons,  and  their  projectiles  will  fall  every- 
where except  in  the  houses  we  are  occupying."  This 
succeeded  very  well  and  the  men  greeted  the  German 
shrapnels,  which  were  bursting  at  tremendous  heights, 
with  laughter.  My  joy  was  great,  for  if  the  artillery 
had  fired  straight  into  the  houses,  our  position 
would  have  been  impossible  and  we  should  have  been 
obliged  to  retreat.  Ah,  if  we  had  only  had  a  few 
guns,  how  many  of  our  adversaries,  we  should 
have  brought  down ! 

During  the  combat,  some  of  the  horsemen  of  the 


8  Brave  Belgians 

Civic  Guard  told  me  that  a  huge  infantry  column 
had  crossed  the  Meuse,  north  of  Vise  and  that  a 
battery  was  already  directing  its  firing  on  us.  This 
news  seemed  all  the  more  probable,  as  we  heard  a 
cannonading  which  appeared  to  be  coming  from  a 
height  on  the  left  bank.  Isolated  as  we  were,  and  not 
having  received  any  instructions,  my  situation  was 
extremely  disquieting.  In  order  to  protect  my  retreat, 
I  gave  orders  to  the  2nd  Company  to  prevent,  by  its 
firing,  any  movement  of  the  enemy  southwards.  To 
the  ist  Company,  I  gave  orders  to  go  towards  Hallem- 
baye  and  strengthen  the  outpost  at  Lixne  and,  at 
the  same  time,  to  observe  how  the  land  lay  towards 
the  north. 

Presently  the  2nd  Company  had  to  undergo  such 
violent  firing  from  musketry  and  machine-gims  that 
Captain  Francois,  who  was  in  command,  was  obliged 
to  evacuate  certain  houses  along  the  Meuse,  as  the 
walls  were  pierced  by  the  balls.  Captain  Burgh- 
raeve,  too,  in  command  of  the  ist  Company,  sent 
me  word  that  the  German  artillery  was  sending  a 
veritable  storm  of  shells  of  every  calibre  on  to  the 
troops  that  were  defending  the  Lixhe  ford,  and  that  the 
men,  lying  down  under  each  fresh  burst,  were  unable 
to  reply,  and  still  more  unable  to  observe  the  country 
round.  It  was,  therefore,  possible  for  the  Germans 
to  cross  the  Meuse  without  being  seen  by  them  so 
that  he  could  not  warn  me.  "Hold  out,"  I  replied, 
"it  is  all  right!"  At  the  same  time,  I  continued 
encouraging  my  brave  men  who  were  resisting  ener- 
getically at  Vise. 

By  4.30,  the  development  of  the  enemy's  front  was 
getting  more  and  more  extensive.  The  weakness  of 
my  forces,  part  of  which  could  do  nothing  on  account 


The  Defence  of  Vis^  9 

of  the  adverse  firing,  made  me  decide  to  evacuate  my 
position,  under  cover,  at  the  different  points  occupied, 
of  our  rear-guard.  This  retreat  took  place  in  perfect 
order,  without  the  enemy  being  aware  of  it.  The 
ist  Company,  in  spite  of  its  dangerous  situation, 
also  succeeded  in  withdrawing,  group  by  group. 
The  Lixhe  post  was  now  the  only  one  to  cause  us 
any  anxiety. 

Crouching  down  in  the  beet-root  fields,  our  com- 
rades awaited  a  lull  in  the  steel  whirlwind,  in  order 
to  get  up  and  make  a  rush  forward.  Fifty  yards 
farther  on,  they  threw  themselves  down  again.  The 
German  artillery  increased  its  firing,  the  earth  shook, 
and  clouds  of  dust  flew  about  everywhere.  With 
intense  emotion,  I  watched  this  terrible  race.  Finally, 
thank  God,  they  were  all  there  with  us.  The  soldiers 
had  their  coats,  shakos,  and  kits  pierced  with  balls. 
Two  men  saw  the  bicycles  they  were  holding  shattered 
by  shells.  By  the  most  unheard-of  good  luck,  not 
one  of  them  was  wounded. 

Our  total  losses  amounted  to  two  men  killed  and  ten 
wounded.  The  inhabitants  of  Vis6  told  us  afterward 
that  the  enemy  had  suffered  greatly,  and  that  a 
number  of  carts  took  away  their  wounded. 


CHAPTER  n 
The  First  German  Flag  Taken 

(August  5,  19 14) 
From  the  Account  Given  by  Deputy  Staff  Major 

COLLYNS   OF   the    I2TH    LiNE   REGIMENT 

On  leaving  Vis^,  I  went  to  Milmort,  where,  on  August 
5th,  I  received  an  order  from  General  Leman  to  go 
immediately  to  Wandre  and  to  prevent,  at  any  cost, 
the  Germans  crossing  the  bridge  over  the  Meuse. 

On  arriving,  I  made  a  brief  survey  of  the  position. 
As  my  Battalion  was  only  four  hundred  strong,  the 
defence  meant  principally  the  construction  of  bar- 
ricades and  the  utilising  of  houses  and  walls  for  firing 
obliquely  and  from  all  sides  over  the  bridge  of  the 
Meuse,  over  the  canal  bridge  to  the  west,  and  over 
the  roads  leading  to  these  bridges.  With  feverish 
activity,  the  soldiers  set  to  work.  In  the  various 
houses  indicated,  they  broke  the  window-panes, 
arranged  the  bedding  and  sacks  of  earth  against  the 
windows,  in  order  to  shelter  those  who  were  firing. 
They  then  dragged  carts,  carried  planks  of  wood  and 
barrels,  and  all  kinds  of  other  material,  to  the  bridge 
over  the  Meuse,  piling  everything  up  in  such  a  way 
as  to  leave  only  a  narrow  passage,  scarcely  sufficient 
for  one  man  to  cross  at  a  time. 

10 


The  First  German  Flag  Taken      ii 

A  barricade  was  then  put  up  on  the  road  from  Her- 
stal  to  Vivegnis.  The  walls  of  the  cemetery,  a  huge 
rectangle  between  the  road  and  the  canal,  were  pierced 
to  form  loopholes  and  so  transformed  into  a  regular 
redoubt.  In  a  very  short  time,  my  men  were  posted 
behind  the  windows  of  the  houses  and  the  loopholes 
of  the  cemetery,  with  their  Mausers  ready,  on  the 
look-out  for  the  enemy. 

These  preparations  evidently  interfered  with  the 
plans  of  the  Germans  and  their  spies  set  to  work  to 
move  us  away.  One  of  their  agents  transmitted  to 
me,  by  telephone,  an  order  from  the  Staff  to  leave 
Wandre.  As  I  had  received  an  order  to  defend  the 
bridge  at  any  cost,  I  was  greatly  surprised  and  asked 
at  once  for  communication  with  Headquarters. 

"I  have  given  no  such  instructions,"  answered 
General  Leman,  in  reply  to  my  question.  "Is  Col- 
lyns  still  there  and  can  I  count  on  him?"  I  assured 
the  General  that  I  should  on  no  account  leave  there 
without  his  express  order  to  do  so. 

On  returning  to  the  bridge,  to  my  great  amazement, 
I  saw  some  men  taking  away  the  carts  which  formed 
our  barricade.  I  called  out  to  them  furiously  and 
asked  what  they  were  doing.  They  informed  me 
that  they  were  merely  obeying  an  order  they  had 
received  from  the  Superintendent  of  Police.  I  asked 
the  latter  what  he  meant  by  interfering. 

"There  is  no  knowing  what  to  do,"  he  answered, 
angrily.  "The  General  has  just  telephoned  to  me 
to  have  the  bridge  cleared." 

"Look  here,"  I  replied,  "I  am  going  to  give  an 
order  now  to  the  sentinels  to  shoot  down  every  man 
who  touches  the  barricades,  and  I  shall  hold  you 
responsible  for  what  happens." 


12  Brave  Belgians 

My  energetic  attitude  took  effect  and  there  was 
no  further  attempt  to  disobey  my  orders. 

The  remainder  of  the  day,  August  5th,  passed  with- 
out any  other  incident.  Fearing  a  night  attack,  I 
arranged  for  a  new  system  of  lighting.  I  had  some 
piles  of  straw  soaked  in  tar  and  placed  at  various 
points,  out  of  sight  of  the  enemy,  giving  orders  to 
the  sentinels  to  set  fire  to  them  in  case  of  an  alert. 

No  information  reached  me  except  that  the  enemy 
was  bombarding  the  Forts  violently.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  my  position  at  the  Wandre  bridge  constituted 
a  second  line  of  defence,  for,  at  a  certain  distance  in 
front  of  us,  fortress  troops  occupied  the  ground  be- 
tween the  Pontisse  Fort  and  the  Meuse.  I  had  not 
much  faith  in  the  value  of  these  soldiers,  as  they 
belonged  to  our  former  recruiting  system. 

They  had  left  their  regiments  years  ago  and  had  only 
been  under  arms  again  four  days.  My  estimation 
turned  out  to  be  true.  At  midnight,  a  sustained  firing 
was  suddenly  heard  in  front  of  us  and,  very  soon  after, 
the  fortress  troops  endeavoured  to  reach  the  town  by 
the  roads  I  was  defending.  I  rushed  forward  to 
meet  them  and  ordered  them  to  return  to  their  posi- 
tion, threatening  to  shoot  those  who  disobeyed. 
They  started  back,  but  the  darkness  prevented  my 
seeing  whether  they  really  returned  to  their  posts, 
or  whether  they  slipped  round  on  our  left  flank. 

Towards  one  o'clock,  my  sentinels  fired  and,  imme- 
diately, the  bonfires  were  lighted.  An  intense  firing 
then  took  place,  principally  from  the  Herstal-Vivegnis 
road.  The  German  musketry  and  machine-gims 
replied.  A  few  minutes  later,  the  firing  was  less 
intense  and  was  heard  farther  away.  The  enemy  had 
been  obliged  to  retreat,  but,  before  long  returned  in 


The  First  German  Flag  Taken      13 

greater  force,  by  parallel  streets.  Once  more  our 
firing  compelled  them  to  retreat.  They  then  rushed 
into  the  gardens,  passed  through  the  houses  and  ad- 
vanced along  the  street  which  cuts  the  Herstal- 
Vivegnis  road  perpendicularly.  This  street  was 
simply  swept  from  one  end  to  the  other  by  our  sol- 
diers, hidden  in  the  houses  skirting  the  right  of  the 
square.  After  suflering  frightful  losses,  the  Germans 
were  obliged  to  escape  and  take  shelter  in  the  gar- 
dens. Fresh  troops  appeared  and  attempted  to  force 
the  passage.  The  attacks  continued  uninterruptedly. 
Mingled  with  the  sound  of  the  orders,  of  the  shouts 
and  cries  of  "Forward!"  could  be  heard  the  firing  of 
the  gims  and  the  dull  thud  of  bodies  falling  to  the 
ground.  AVhole  groups  of  German  foot-soldiers  were 
lying  in  the  streets,  at  equal  distances,  their  hands 
clenching  the  butt  end  of  their  guns,  guarding  their 
ranks  even  in  death.  They  lay  there,  showing  their 
breasts,  torn  open  by  the  balls,  and  their  hideous 
wounds.  Blood  trickled  over  the  footpaths  and  over 
the  roads,  there  was  blood  on  the  fronts  of  the  houses, 
blood  everywhere.  Huge  flames  from  the  bonfires 
lighted  up  this  scene  of  carnage.  The  flames  danced, 
jumped,  mingled  with  each  other  in  golden  wreaths, 
throwing  long  shadows  which  seemed  to  be  climbing 
and  running  along  the  walls.  .  .  . 

Gradually,  the  adversaries'  vigour  weakened,  their 
efforts  diminished,  and  there  were  long  intervals 
between  the  attacks.  As  soon  as  the  heads  of  the 
assaulting  columns  came  within  reach  of  our  firing, 
they  were  mown  down.  The  rest  disbanded  and, 
rushing  in  all  directions,  hid  in  the  gardens  and  cellars. 
During  a  lull,  a  few  of  my  brave  men  explored  the 
surrounding  district  and,  a  few  minutes  later,  the 


14  Brave  Belgians 

soldier  Lange  brought  me  the  flag  of  the  89th  Regiment 
of  Mecklenburg  Grenadiers,  which  he  had  found  just 
below  the  houses  facing  the  Vivegnis  road.  The 
Colonel,  the  Adjutant -Major,  the  standard  bearer, 
and  a  number  of  officers  were  lying  there  near  their 
glorious  trophy.  I  seized  the  flag  and  went  forward 
to  my  soldiers  crying:  "Victory!  Victory!"  There 
was  wild  enthusiasm  and,  spontaneously,  they  burst 
out  with  our  national  anthem:  the  Brabangonne, 
and  shouts  of  "Long  live  the  King!  Long  live  Bel- 
gium! Long  live  the  Major!"  The  officers  hurried 
to  me  to  congratulate  me  and,  I  may  as  well  confess 
it,  in  a  state  of  excitement  that  made  my  soldiers 
forget  all  hierarchy,  they  rushed  to  me  and  grasped 
my  hand.     Ah,  the  brave  fellows! 

The  firing  became  less  and  less  violent  and,  towards 
eight  in  the  morning,  the  enemy  beat  a  final  retreat. 
A  strange  man-hunting  chase  then  began  in  the  little 
gardens  of  the  houses.  There  were  Boches  hidden 
in  the  bushes,  crouching  down  behind  heaps  of  leaves. 
Some  of  them  held  up  their  hands,  crj-ing,  "Com- 
rades, do  not  shoot!"  Others,  on  the  contrary, 
fought  to  the  last.  In  one  garden,  a  dozen  of  them 
refused  stubbornly  to  surrender,  and  were  massacred. 
After  confiding  the  flag  to  Engineer  Hiard,  who  im- 
dertook  to  take  it  to  General  Leman,  I  went  through 
the  streets  of  the  town.  Stretcher-bearers  were  car- 
rying away  the  Germans  or  dressing  their  woimds. 
Near  the  square,  I  witnessed  a  very  painful  scene. 
As  one  of  the  stretcher-bearers  approached,  a  German 
officer  raised  his  pistol.  Our  man  snatched  it  from 
him,  but,  whilst  he  was  calling  one  of  his  colleagues 
to  help  him,  the  Boche  drew  out  his  pocketknife  and 
cut  his  own  throat.    There  were  helmets,  swords,  guns. 


The  First  German  Flag  Taken      15 

and  fragments  of  all  kinds  of  things  strewing  the 
ground  and  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  send- 
ing a  little  collection  to  the  Lidge  Town  Hall. 

Just  at  that  moment,  I  heard  some  alarming  news. 
I  was  told  that  there  had  been  an  attempt  to  assas- 
sinate General  Leman;  that  the  Germans  had  entered 
Li^ge,  that  they  already  occupied  Herstal,  and  that 
they  threatened  to  bar  our  way.  In  spite  of  our 
success,  our  situation  was  extremely  perilous.  What- 
ever might  happen,  I  had  given  my  solemn  promise 
to  General  Leman  that  I  would  hold  the  bridge  and 
I  was  determined  to  keep  my  word.  I  sent  word  to 
the  Governor  telling  him  what  my  position  was.  I 
told  him  that  the  Germans  had  retreated  and  were 
probably  within  a  certain  distance  of  my  lines,  that 
I  saw  the  possibility  of  going  forward  and  throwing 
them  back  under  the  firing  of  the  Pontisse  Fort,  but 
that  I  could  not  undertake  this  attack,  unless  I  could 
be  sure  that  the  heights  of  Wandre,  situated  on  the 
right  bank,  were  in  the  possession  of  our  troops,  as 
otherwise  I  should  be  exposed  to  the  enemy  crossing 
the  bridge  and  getting  at  us  from  the  other  side.  I 
sent  three  cyclists,  one  after  the  other,  to  Headquar- 
ters but,  to  my  great  disappointment,  I  received  no 
answer  and  so  did  not  dare  leave  our  shelter. 

Towards  ten  o'clock.  Captain  Grossman  arrived. 
He  was  formerly  an  officer  of  my  Battalion  and  now, 
since  the  mobilisation,  he  was  in  the  2nd  Battalion  of 
the  32nd  Line  Regiment. 

"Major,"  he  said,  "I  was  in  position  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Meuse  and  I  have  received  orders  to 
fall  back.  I  heard  that  you  were  on  the  other  bank 
and  I  have  come  to  place  myself  at  your  disposal. 
Do   not  pack  me  off  again,   Major.     Make  use  of 


i6  Brave  Belgians 

my  hundred  and  fifty  men."  This  help  was  a 
godsend. 

"Grossman,"  I  answered,  "this  is  just  like  you. 
I  am  very  thankful  you  have  come.  We  succeeded 
at  Vise  and  we  have  taken  a  flag  here  and  a  number 
of  prisoners.  I  will  give  you  an  opportunity  of  doing 
something  worth  doing.  The  situation  is  as  follows: 
The  enemy  is  retreating  in  front  of  us,  but  my  left 
is  threatened  and  we  are  threatened  from  behind. 
I  also  know  that  a  fairly  important  German  force  is 
in  Rhees  cemetery,  and  may  be  able  to  turn  round 
us.  Go  by  Basprial  towards  the  heights,  clear  the 
ground  of  what  you  find  there,  hold  the  troops  which 
now  occupy  Rh^es,  at  all  costs,  and  endeavour  to 
make  an  impression  on  them.  I  fancy  you  will  do 
a  good  stroke  there,  Grossman." 

The  Commander  started  off  at  once  with  his  Com- 
pany and,  towards  one  in  the  afternoon,  he  crossed 
the  bridge  again,  followed  by  four  hundred  prisoners, 
among  whom  were  seven  officers.  Lieutenant  Count 
von  Moltke  included,  the  grand-nephew  of  the  famous 
Marshal. 

"I  congratulate  you  heartily,  Grossman,"  I  said, 
"and,  by  way  of  reward,  you  shall  take  the  prisoners 
to  Li6ge." 

A  few  minutes  later,  I  received  notice  that  General 
Bertrand  was  coming  with  his  brigade  to  the  left 
bank,  that  I  was  to  cover  his  passage  by  the  Wandre 
bridge  and  form,  afterwards,  the  rear-guard  of  his 
troops,  which  were  retiring  in  the  direction  of  Ans.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  in 

The  Attack  on  the  Offices  of  the  3rd 
Division 

(LifeGE,  August  6,  1914) 

From  Accounts  by  General  Major  Stassin,  Commanders 

ViNCOTTE     AND     BuiSSET,     CAPTAINS     LhERMITE     AND 

Renard,    Adjutant   Burlet   and    Private 
poncelet 

The  aspect  of  St.-Foi  Street  on  August  5,  1914, 
will  never  be  forgotten  by  those  who  were  there  on 
that  date.  Officers  and  soldiers,  covered  with  dust, 
came  hurrying  along  from  the  Quays  and  from  St. 
Leonard  Street  and  Defrecheux  Street,  towards  the 
offices  of  the  Military  Headquarters  of  the  fortified 
position.  With  feverish  haste,  they  hurried  along 
through  the  crowds  of  young  men  in  the  street,  who, 
with  their  tri-coloured  cockade  in  their  buttonholes, 
were  shouting  and  singing  in  their  enthusiasm,  for 
they  had  all  come  to  offer  their  life  for  their  country. 
Everyone  was  in  high  spirits,  as  the  greatest  confidence 
and  certainty  of  victory  reigned  supreme.  The 
various  groups  were  chatting  and  joking  with  each 
other,  and  the  arrival  and  departure  of  the  military 
couriers  were  greeted  with  amusing  sallies.  "Bring 
me  back  a  helmet!"  called  out  one  man.  "I  would 
2  17 


i8  Brave  Belgians 

rather  have  a  lance  to  make  a  hat-pin  with  for  my 
wife ! "  cried  another.  Bursts  of  laughter  greeted  every 
speech.  Young  men,  rich  and  poor,  were  all  there 
together,  fraternising  with  each  other,  all  actuated 
by  a  fine  burst  of  patriotic  enthusiasm.  Here  and 
there,  forming  a  contrast  to  this  careless  gaiety,  were 
the  farmers  and  cattle-dealers,  in  their  smocks,  with 
their  iron-tipped  sticks.  They  all  looked  more  or  less 
anxious  and  were  discussing  gruffly  the  requisition 
prices. 

"Make  way  there!"  called  out  a  voice  authorita- 
tively. 

A  gendarme  suddenly  appeared,  carrying  a  pigeon 
crouching  in  a  woman's  hat.  He  was  followed  by 
a  wretched-looking  woman  in  tears,  with  dishevelled 
hair,  and  by  a  shifty-looking  individual.  Both  of 
them  had  a  shrinking  attitude  as  they  were  hustled 
along.  The  man  kept  repeating  in  a  mechanical 
way:  "Let  us  go!  Let  us  go!" 

"Down  with  all  spies!"  yelled  the  crowd  and  fists 
threatened  the  two  Boches,  as  they  disappeared  under 
the  archway.  Several  carts,  under  the  care  of  a  sub- 
officer,  followed.  They  were  full  of  weapons  and 
war  equipment  of  various  kinds.  The  news  soon 
spread  that  fifteen  thousand  guns  had  just  been  dis- 
covered in  a  cellar  in  St.  Marguerite  Street  and 
more  than  fifty  thousand  lances,  saddles,  revolvers, 
and  machine-guns  in  a  house  in  Jonckeu  Street,  which, 
from  cellar  to  attic,  had  been  converted  into  a  veritable 
arsenal.  A  thrill  of  anger  ran  through  the  whole 
crowd. 

Inside  the  house  which  was  the  Headquarters  of 
the  Staff,  feverish  activity  reigned.  Night  and  day, 
without  ceasing  and  without  any  rest,  the  officers  had 


Attack  on  Offices  of  3rd  Division     19 

been  at  work,  for,  we  may  as  well  confess  it,  we  had 
had  too  much  faith  in  the  loyalty  of  our  neighbours, 
and  the  ultimatum  had  taken  us  by  surprise.  Every- 
thing had  to  be  thought  of  and  everything  organised 
within  a  few  days.  Motor-cars,  horses,  cattle,  and 
fodder  had  to  be  requisitioned.  Houses  in  the  firing 
line  would  have  to  be  destroyed,  trenches  and  shelters 
must  be  constructed.  There  were,  in  fact,  thousands 
of  things  to  be  done,  in  order  to  complete  and  improve 
the  defence  of  the  Forts. 

The  telephone  bell  kept  ringing  and  couriers  rushed 
off  every  minute  along  the  various  routes,  carrying 
orders  from  the  Governor  to  the  various  points 
threatened. 

Towards  midnight,  St.-Foi  Street  was  silent  again. 
At  the  Military  Headquarters,  the  officers  continued 
their  work  and,  at  the  door  of  the  building,  a  bureau 
carriage  and  several  motor-cars  were  stationed. 

Suddenly,  shouts  and  cries  of  "Hurrah!"  were  to 
be  heard.  Surrounded  by  a  crowd,  wild  with  delight, 
an  open  motor-car  appeared. 

Standing  on  the  cushions,  Engineer  Hiard  was  to 
be  seen  waving  a  German  flag.  It  was  the  flag  of  the 
89th  Regiment  of  the  Mecklenburg  Grenadiers,  which 
a  soldier,  Fernand  Lange,  had  just  taken  at  the 
Wandre  bridge,  at  Herstal.  Windows  opened,  and 
faces,  with  eyes  puffed  up  with  sleep,  appeared. 
Bare  arms  were  to  be  seen  waving  handkerchiefs, 
and  the  enthusiasm  was  beyond  all  words. 

Gradually  the  tumult  ceased  once  more  and  there 
was  silence  again.  Day  broke  and  a  dim  light  illu- 
mined the  street.  Suddenly  a  motor-car  appeared 
through  the  morning  mist,  and  two  lancers,  who 
were  seated  in  it,  cried  out,  "The  EngHsh  are  here!" 


20  Brave  Belgians 

Behind  them  were  five  German  ofiBcers,  preceding 
soldiers  in  grey  uniform  marching  in  two  ranks  and 
shouldering  guns.' 

A  crowd  of  men  and  women  of  the  people  accom- 
panied them,  shouting  joyfully:  "Long  live  the 
English!"  Commander  Marchand  was  standing  in 
the  doorway  of  the  Headquarters  building,  smoking 
a  cigarette.  He  looked  at  the  procession  in  amaze- 
ment, wondering  whether  the  men  were  truce-bearers 
or  deserters.  He  advanced  a  few  steps  to  meet  them 
in  a  hesitating  way. 

Inside  the  building,  the  officers  were  still  at  work, 
taking  no  notice  of  the  noise  in  the  street.  By  chance, 
Commander  Delannoy  went  to  the  window.  His 
office  is  on  the  second  floor  and  looks  on  to  St. 
Leonard  Street.  He  saw  about  thirty  Germans 
in  this  street.  He  rushed  back  to  the  landing  shout- 
ing :  ' '  The  Germans  are  here ! ' '  Commander  Vingotte, 
who  was  on  the  first  floor,  loaded  his  revolver  and 
rushed  down  the  stairs.  Commander  Buisset  and 
Lieutenant  Renard  followed  him. 

In  the  meantime,  the  five  German  officers  walked 
slowly  up  to  Commander  Marchand  and,  putting 
their  hands  behind  their  backs,  armed  themselves 
with  a  revolver  in  the  right  hand  and  a  dagger  in  the 
left.  When  within  two  yards  of  the  Commander, 
their  chief  officer,  a  tall,  stout  man,  whom  we  learnt 
afterwards  was  Major  Coimt  Joachim  von  Alvensle- 
ben,  spoke  to  the  Belgian  officer  in  English.  No  one 
knows  what  he  said.  Marchand  suddenly  shouted: 
"You  shall  never  pass!"  All  the  German  officers, 
feigning    no    longer,    fired   immediately.     Marchand 

'  Some  of  these  soldiers  belonged  to  the  7th  Regiment  of 
Chasseurs. 


Attack  on  Offices  of  3rd  Division     21 

and  Vingotte  fired  back.  Three  German  officers 
fell.  Alvensleben  rushed  to  the  door  to  enter  the 
house,  but  Vingotte  forthwith  fired  foiir  shots  at 
him,  and  the  Major  fell  forward  head  first.  The 
last  German  officer  fell  at  his  side,  brought  down  by 
Captain  Lhermite  with  the  butt  end  of  his  gun.  Fol- 
lowing the  example  of  their  chiefs,  the  enemy  soldiers 
opened  fire,  holding  the  butt  end  of  their  guns  on  their 
hips.  They  aimed  badly  and  the  shots  grazed  the 
walls.  Commander  Sauber  sprang  out  of  the  car- 
riage standing  at  the  door,  and  discharged  his  Brown- 
ing on  the  assailants.  A  German  slipped  behind 
the  motor-cars  and  aimed  at  Sauber  from  the  foot- 
path. He  missed  the  Commander,  but  hit  Marchand, 
who  fell  down,  wounded  at  the  back  of  the  neck  and 
in  the  chest. 

At  this  moment,  about  twenty  Germans  turned  the 
corner  of  the  street  and  rushed  to  the  rescue  of  their 
countrymen.  Hidden  behind  a  barrier,  they  fired 
into  the  windows  and  entrance  hall.  Colonel  Stassin, 
Chief  of  the  Staff,  was  working  with  General  Leman 
in  a  back  room  of  the  ground  floor.  At  the  sound 
of  the  shooting,  he  rushed  along  the  hall  and,  in  spite 
of  a  shower  of  bullets,  out  into  the  street.  A  terrible 
sight  awaited  him  there.  Commander  Marchand 
was  lying  in  a  pool  of  blood,  and  four  Belgian  officers 
were  fighting  courageously  with  about  thirty  Germans. 
The  Colonel  did  not  hesitate  a  moment.  Before  all 
things,  the  Governor  must  be  saved.  He  returned  to 
the  office  and  took  the  General  to  the  Royal  foundry 
which  adjoins  the  buildings.  Helped  by  Captain 
de  Krahe  and  Captain  Lebbe,  the  two  chiefs  scaled 
the  wall,  between  the  houses,  and,  by  taking  St. 
Leonard  Street,  reached  the  Vivegnis  station.     From 


22  Brave  Belgians 

there,  they  went  by  carriage  to  the  Loncin  Fort, 
where  the  Governor  remained. 

In  the  meantime,  Commander  Vingotte,  in  order 
to  cover  the  General's  retreat,  called  together  the 
soldiers  and  the  gendarmes  of  the  Guard  and  led  them 
to  the  attack,  seconded  by  Captain  Buisset,  Captain 
Lhermite,  and  Lieutenant  Renard.  With  a  gtm 
which  he  found  in  the  street,  Commander  Hauteclerc 
joined  in  the  attack.  The  Belgians  were  ten  against 
thirty,  but,  in  spite  of  this,  they  sustained  the  fight 
with  advantage  to  themselves.  On  their  knees  on 
the  ground,  crouching  down  on  the  footpath,  or 
sheltered  behind  doors,  they  avoided  the  enemy's 
balls,  whilst  their  well-aimed  firing  brought  down 
many  victims.  When  about  ten  were  killed,  the 
others,  most  of  whom  were  wounded,  took  flight. 
One  alone,  the  last  of  them  all,  posted  opposite  the 
Headquarters,  continued  firing  at  the  windows. 
Adjutant  Burlet,  from  the  balcony  above,  brought 
him  down.  Undecided  which  way  to  escape,  the 
Germans  stopped  at  the  corner  of  St.  Leonard  Street. 
A  few  of  them  waved  the  white  flag. 

"Forward!"  cried  Vingotte,  at  the  head  of  his  cour- 
ageous little  troop,  rushing  ofl;  in  pursuit  of  them.  In 
St.  Leonard  Street,  two  more  Germans  were  killed. 
Unfortunately  the  Belgians  only  had  their  revolvers 
and,  thanks  to  this,  the  remaining  Boches  escaped. 

After  placing  men  to  guard  each  end  of  the  street, 
the  officers  returned  to  Headquarters  and  carried  the 
body  of  Commander  Marchand  into  a  room  on  the 
ground  floor.  The  unfortunate  officer  gave  no  sign 
of  life.  He  had  a  frightful  wound  at  the  back  of  his 
neck  and  a  great  clot  of  blood  at  his  chest.  A  second 
victim,  a  gendarme,  named  Houba,  was  placed  at  his 


Attack  on  Offices  of  3rd  Division     23 

side.  In  an  adjoining  room  the  wounds  of  two  sol- 
diers were  quickly  dressed.  The  bodies  of  the  enemy- 
were  then  searched.  In  Major  von  Alvensleben's 
pocket,  a  1/60,000  map  of  Lidge  was  found,  on  which 
an  itinerary  was  traced  in  pencil  from  Hcrmee  to 
Coron-Meuse.  Had  the  Germans  really  followed 
that  itinerary  and  had  they  managed  to  come  unseen 
across  the  waste  land  of  the  Vignes  and  so  enter  the 
town?  It  is  possible,  but  it  is  quite  certain  that  their 
departure  was  as  mysterious  as  their  arrival,  as  they 
were  neither  seen  to  enter  nor  leave  the  town  at  any 
point  of  the  fortified  region.  It  is  much  more  prob- 
able that  they  were  hidden  inside  the  town  when  they 
prepared  this  expedition.  The  following  rumoured 
version  of  the  affair  is  much  the  more  probable  expla- 
nation. A  few  days  before  the  declaration  of  war, 
it  is  said  that  some  Danes  took  a  flat  at  Thier,  Li^ge. 
On  the  evening  of  August  5th,  they  paid  their  bill  to 
their  landlady,  an  honest,  unsuspecting  woman, 
telling  her  that  the  town  did  not  seem  safe  and  that 
they  intended  leaving  the  following  night.  Towards 
three  in  the  morning,  she  heard  a  noise  and,  getting 
up,  went  to  see  them  off.  To  her  amazement,  she 
saw  that  they  were  wearing  German  uniforms.  With- 
out attempting  any  explanation,  the  Boches  made  off. 
Were  these  men  Alvensleben  and  his  friends? 

Whatever  were  the  means  employed,  the  attempt 
on  the  offices  of  the  3rd  Division  was  a  most  daring 
exploit,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  heroic  resistance 
of  the  Staff  officers  and  of  the  soldiers  on  guard,  the 
Germans  would  certainly  have  succeeded  in  capturing 
the  Governor  of  the  stronghold  and  in  getting  hold 
of  the  documents  concerning  the  defence. 


CHAPTER  IV 
The  Sart-Tilman  Combat 

From  an  Account  Given  by  Pi:RE  de  Groote,  Army  Chaplain 
TO  THE  1ST  Regiment  of  Unmounted  Chasseurs  and 

COMPLETED    BY    AIaJOR   N OF   THE   4TH 

Regiment  of  Unmounted  Chasseurs 

On  August  4,  19 14,  the  inhabitants  of  Charleroi 
crowded  to  the  streets,  windows,  and  balconies  to 
cheer  the  ist  Regiment  of  Chasseurs  which  was  start- 
ing, preceded  by  the  band,  to  take  part  in  the  defence 
of  Belgium. 

"Long  live  the  King!  Hurrah  for  Belgium! 
Hurrah  for  the  soldiers!" 

Every  man  shouted  the  words  that  came  first  to  his 
lips,  and  the  soldiers,  with  bright  eyes  and  smiles, 
marched  proudly  along,  under  a  shower  of  flowers  and 
tricolour  ribbons. 

Pushing  through  the  ranks,  a  woman  held  a  little 
girl  of  three  or  four  years  of  age  up  to  one  of  the  volun- 
teers, and  the  father,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  kissed  his 
child  for  the  last  time,  amidst  the  frantic  cheering 
of  the  crowd. 

Just  at  this  moment,  the  people  rushed  forward  on 
to  the  horse-road,  surrounding  the  soldiers,  and  com- 
menced filling  their  pockets  with  tobacco,  chocolate, 
and   a  hundred  other  dainties.     The  officers,   half- 

24 


The  Sart-Tilman  Combat  25 

laughing  and  half  angry,  endeavoured  to  re-establish 
order.  As  for  me,  I  had  great  difficulty  to  get  along, 
for  people  I  did  not  know  at  all  clutched  me,  grasped 
my  hands  and,  recommending  their  sons  to  my  care, 
forced  money  upon  me  with  the  words,  "Take  it, 
take  it,  it  is  for  the  soldiers."  I  managed  to  get  free 
of  the  mob  and  rushed  home.  To  my  great  annoy- 
ance, my  appointment  as  army  chaplain  had  not  yet 
arrived.  What  was  I  to  do?  The  soldiers  wanted 
me  to  be  with  them  and  it  seemed  to  me  that,  at 
such  a  time,  I  could  not  desert  them.  I  did  not 
hesitate  long,  but  rushed  off  to  the  station  and  took 
my  seat  in  a  compartment  with  eight  officers. 

After  two  houi-s'  journey,  the  train  stopped  and  we 
were  at  Huy.  After  organising  the  bridge-head  and 
protecting  the  destruction  of  the  Engis  and  Hermalle 
bridges,  the  regiment  was  sent  by  train  to  Liege  in 
the  afternoon  of  August  5th.  We  arrived  at  the 
Longdoz  station  and  were  greeted  here,  too,  with 
cheers.  The  enthusiasm  increased  when  the  crowd 
discovered  a  priest  in  the  ranks.  We  were  stationed 
on  the  road  which  leads  from  Jupille  to  Bellaire,  as 
reserves,  behind  the  nth  Brigade,  which  was  then 
fighting  furiously  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Barchon  Fort. 
The  soldiers  piled  arms  and  lay  down  on  the  roadside. 
Presently  a  line  regiment  passed.  From  horseback, 
I  addressed  a  few  patriotic  words  to  the  brave  fel- 
lows, who  seemed  to  appreciate  what  I  said.  They 
knelt  down  and  asked  for  my  blessing.  I  prayed  that 
God  would  give  them  the  victory. 

Towards  evening,  we  returned  to  Liege,  went 
through  to  Fragnee  and  halted  in  a  meadow.  It  was 
then  ten  o'clock.  I  lay  down  on  the  grass  by  Com- 
mander Henseval.     I   had  not  closed  my  eyes  for 


2()  Brave  Belgians 

three  nights  and  was  dead  tired.  The  Commander, 
who  was  preparing  his  stylograph,  in  order  to  write  to 
his  wife,  noticed  my  exhaustion.  "Go  to  sleep,"  he  said; 
"in  case  anything  happens,  I  will  wake  you."  I  did 
not  need  telling  twice,  but  alas,  ten  minutes  later, 
there  was  an  energetic  call:  "To  arms!     To  arms!" 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  and  rushed  forward  to  find  out 
what  had  occurred.  The  German  Staff,  having  failed 
in  its  plans  to  the  east,  was  employing  one  of  its  favour- 
ite manoeuvres  and  developing  action  by  means  of 
its  left  wing,  in  the  direction  of  a  more  vulnerable 
sector,  that  of  Embourg-Boncelles.  From  our  posi- 
tion at  Fragnee,  we  could  already  see  the  light  of  the 
bursting  shells,  here  and  there,  in  the  direction  of 
Boncelles. 

We  were  sent  with  the  4th  Chasseurs  to  Ougr^e. 
I  was  at  the  head  of  the  column,  behind  General 
Massart.  It  was  raining  in  torrents  and  the  water 
was  streaming  down  our  faces.  This  mattered  little 
to  us  and  we  continued  our  march  along  the  white 
road  bordered  by  two  rows  of  trees. 

Suddenly,  a  motor-car  arrived,  travelling  at  full 
speed.  Commander  Marchand  was  in  it.  He  belonged 
to  Lieutenant-General  Leman's  Staff. 

"Our  men  are  out-flanked  at  Sart-Tilman,"  he  said 
to  the  General;  "the  Chasseurs  must  defend  the 
hamlet  at  any  cost." 

"You  mean  a  sacrifice?" 

"Yes,  General." 

" Good,  agreed !     Forward!" 

The  commander  of  the  regiment,  Colonel  Jacquet, 
went  quickly  from  rank  to  rank  of  the  soldiers,  stimu- 
lating their  enthusiasm  and  telling  them  how  proud 
he  was  to  be  marching  at  their  head.     As  he  wished 


The  Sart-Tilman  Combat  2-] 

to  add  example  to  precept,  he  went  straight  to  the 
vanguard  and  advanced  cautiously  along,  for  the 
ground  was  hilly  and  it  was  quite  possible  that 
enemy  patrols  might  have  penetrated  there.  Sart- 
Tilman  is  the  key  of  a  wooded  table-land,  the  entrance 
to  which  was  crowned  by  a  series  of  redoubts  and 
hastily  prepared  trenches,  but  the  firing  range  was 
not  sufficiently  cleared.  It  was  nearly  midnight  when 
we  passed  through  the  hamlet. 

The  Major  of  the  ist  Battalion  placed  three  com- 
panies between  the  redoubts,  facing  the  St.  Jean  and 
Sclessin  woods  and  kept  one  company  back  as  a 
reserve.  The  noise  from  this  side  was  deafening. 
Everything  seemed  to  be  rtmibling  together,  guns, 
machine-guns,  and  cannons,  and,  in  the  midst  of  the 
darkness,  the  bursting  of  the  shrapnels  illuminated 
the  sky  with  their  blood-red  lights.  To  the  right  and 
left,  the  Boncelles  and  Embourg  Forts  seemed  to  be 
wrapped  round  with  a  girdle  of  flames.  From  time 
to  time,  we  could  hear,  in  the  still  night,  the  doleful 
sound  of  the  fifes  sounding  the  rally  and  the  march 
forward.  It  was  a  grand  and  thrilling  sight.  It  was 
war  in  all  its  tragic  beauty.  The  deployment  of  the 
Chasseurs  was  carried  out  just  as  though  it  had  been 
on  the  drilling  ground.  They  climbed  the  slopes  in 
files.  Here  and  there,  lay  the  dead  body  of  a  Belgian 
soldier. 

"Halt!"  came  the  order  and,  when  once  they  were 
established  in  an  advantageous  position  and  sheltered 
as  much  as  possible,  they  fired  by  guess  and  for  a 
good  reason.  It  was  impossible  to  see  a  single  one 
of  the  enemy  soldiers.  They  were  all  hidden  in  the 
trenches  and  their  heads  scarcely  came  up  to  the 
parapet. 


28  Brave  Belgians 

Suddenly,  some  soldiers,  dragging  with  them 
their  machine-guns,  rushed  away,  crying,  "The  Ger- 
mans are  there.  Each  man  for  himself!"  It  was 
impossible  to  stop  them  and  there  was  a  veritable 
helter-skelter.  We  discovered  afterwards  that  these 
men  were  Germans,  disguised  as  Belgian  soldiers,  in 
order  to  create  a  panic  amongst  us.  There  was  a  slight 
hesitation  and  then  our  officers  rushed  amongst  the 
sharp-shooters  and  led  them  forward,  to  the  positions 
they  were  to  occupy.  A  violent  musketry  fire  greeted 
them,  coming  chiefly  from  the  St.  Jean  wood,  a  part 
of  which  had  not  been  felled.  Scattered  about,  our 
Chasseurs  continued  to  advance,  sheltering  behind 
one  tree  after  another,  in  spite  of  the  ceaseless  firing. 
The  balls  whizzed  along  and,  with  a  dry  crackle,  cut 
down  the  branches  or  entered  the  trunks  of  the  trees. 
I  can  still  see  a  young  Corporal,  who  had  been  hit  in 
the  head  and  chest  with  a  ball  and  was  red  with  blood, 
walking  towards  Major  Le  Doseray. 

"I  have  done  my  duty.  Major,"  he  said,  "haven't 
I?  Are  you  satisfied  with  me?"  The  Major 
had  only  just  time  to  grasp  his  hand,  when  the  poor 
fellow  sank  down.  I  rushed  to  him,  but  he  was 
dead. 

The  battle  developed  with  great  violence.  The 
German  scouts,  who  preceded  their  columns,  were 
driven  off;  but  our  company  to  the  right,  under  Cap- 
tain Commander  Rochette,  had  suffered  terrible  losses 
and  he  asked  for  reinforcements.  The  reserve  of  the 
1st  Battalion  and  two  companies  of  the  2nd  Battalion 
soon  formed  part  of  the  chain,  and  the  struggle  con- 
tinued until  break  of  day  with  alternative  calm  and 
violence.  The  Germans  found  a  way  of  creeping 
into  our  thickets,  thus  obliging  our  regiment  reserve 


The  Sart-Tilman  Combat  29 

patrols  to  explore  our  positions  on  each  side  and  even 
at  our  back. 

The  Chasseurs  were  congratulatin<j  themselves  on 
having  accomplished  their  mission  and  they  believed 
that  the  victory  was  theirs,  when,  just  at  dawn,  on 
our  left  wing,  the  Boches  waved  white  flags  and  the 
bugle  rang  out,  "ist  Chasseurs,  cease  firing!"  Our 
officers  were  amazed  and,  for  an  instant,  our  firing 
stopped.  We  understood  immediately,  though,  that 
it  was  only  another  ruse  and  that  the  Germans  had 
imitated  our  bugle  call.  The  fight  began  once  more, 
and  very  soon  after,  groups  of  the  enemy  who,  during 
the  darkness  had  crept  into  some  of  the  Sart-Tilman 
houses  that  were  still  intact,  took  our  trenches  and 
our  explorers  from  behind.  There  was  a  moment's 
consternation,  as  one  of  our  men  fell  face  downwards 
at  the  ^Colonel's  feet,  declaring  that  he  had  been 
shot  in  the  back  by  his  comrades.  By  way  of  restor- 
ing confidence,  the  Commander  of  the  2nd  Battalion 
sent  a  platoon  to  reconnoitre  in  the  direction  of  the 
Cense-Rouge  farm.  It  came  back  without  discover- 
ing anything,  after  losing  some  men  who  were  also 
shot  in  the  back.  Another  platoon  inspected  the 
field  of  oats  adjoining  the  farm.  Our  Adjutant- 
Major  went  himself  into  the  gardens.  In  the  houses, 
there  were  soldiers  dressed  remarkably  like  our  Chas- 
seurs. The  Colonel  told  them  to  come  out  and  join 
in  the  shooting.  They  refused  and  we  broke  down  the 
doors,  but  the  point  blank  firing  of  these  imitation 
Chasseurs  obliged  our  men  to  fall  back.  Captain 
Fleuracker,  Captain  Rochette,  Lieutenant  Sohier, 
Lieutenant  Pereaux,  and  Lieutenant  Dufrane  were 
killed.  Our  reserve  had  to  be  withdrawn  and  the 
houses  had  to  be  attacked  one  after  another.     We 


30  Brave  Belgians 

were  not  supplied  with  incendiary  and  asphyxiating 
means,  as  the  Germans  were. 

The  battle  continued  to  rage  and  some  German 
machine-guns,  stationed  foiir  hundred  yards  north- 
east of  Sart-Tilman  and  protected  by  barbed  wire, 
fired  volleys  into  the  hamlet  and  its  neighbourhood. 
Captain  Vergeynst,  followed  by  a  few  courageous 
men,  rushed  forward  and  succeeded  in  bringing  down 
the  Boche  commander  and  his  gunners,  but,  unfor- 
tunately, the  losses  in  our  ranks  were  considerable. 
The  regimentary  reserve,  which  for  a  time  had  been 
dispersed,  now  rallied  round  the  officers,  whilst  the 
first  line  executed  a  furious  counter-attack.  This 
continued  until  towards  five  o'clock,  when  the  3rd 
Battalion,  with  the  flag,  the  machine-guns,  and  the 
artillery  of  the  15th  Brigade  came  from  the  St.  Lau- 
rent wood  and  began  to  attack  the  trenches  we  had 
had  to  leave.     These  were  soon  retaken. 

Just  at  this  moment  Captain  Henseval,  command- 
ing the  3rd  Company  of  the  3rd  Battalion,  noticed  a 
white  flag  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  Germans  who, 
with  hands  up,  were  crying,  "Kamarades!  Kama- 
rades!"  A  sign  was  made  for  them  to  approach,  but, 
as  they  did  not  move,  Henseval,  accompanied  by 
about  ten  men,  advanced  towards  them  in  order  to 
take  them.  He  had  almost  reached  them,  when  the 
Germans  flung  themselves  down  on  the  ground, 
discovering  a  machine-gun  which  mowed  down  the 
little  group  of  Belgians,  including  the  Captain,  who 
received  several  balls  in  his  chest.  Of  all  this  brave 
group,  only  one  man  escaped. 

To  the  left,  in  the  direction  of  Boncelles,  grey  masses 
could  be  seen  treading  down  the  beet-root  fields. 
They  were  the  73rd  and  74th  regiments  of  German 


The  Sart-Tilman  Combat  31 

Infantry,  marching  in  close  ranks,  shouting  "Hurrah !" 
and  attacking  the  Fort.  Our  shells  and  machine-guns 
made  great  gaps  in  their  columns.  At  the  command 
of  their  officers,  the  Battalions  closed  up  the  gaps 
and  continued  their  march  forward.  Three  times 
their  lines  were  broken  and  three  times  they  re-formed 
them.  Finally,  decimated,  they  broke  up  near  the 
moats.  Only  a  hundred  men  remained  on  foot. 
Without  their  officers,  and  completely  demoralised, 
they  waved  a  white  flag.  Captain  Lefert,  in  command 
of  the  Fort,  and  Lieutenant  Montoisy,  climbed  on  to 
the  benches  and,  when  the  Germans  saw  them,  they 
held  up  their  hands.  Just  at  that  moment,  two  shots 
were  fired  from  somewhere  and  the  Captain  fell,  a 
ball  in  both  thighs.  The  Germans  gave  themselves 
up  all  the  same,  and  disappeared  in  Indian  file  inside 
the  Fort.  The  assault  had  failed  and  the  enemy  fell 
back  towards  seven  o'clock  and  attempted  nothing 
more  than  a  few  counter-attacks  at  intervals. 

The  Chasseurs  were  masters  of  the  place  and  their 
flag  flew  over  Sart-Tilman. 

I  went  out  at  once  to  the  battle-field.  What  an 
abominable  sight  it  was !  Around  the  trenches,  were 
the  dead  bodies  of  Belgians  and  Germans,  piled  up 
and  forming  parapets  three  yards  high.  I  went  down 
into  one  of  the  trenches ;  it  was  a  pool  of  blood,  with 
a  heap  of  bodies  entangled  with  each  other.  Alas, 
how  many  of  our  brave  young  Chasseurs  were  there, 
poor  fellows  whom  anxious  mothers  were  expecting 
back  home !  Stepping  over  the  dead  bodies,  I  dressed 
the  wounds  of  our  men  and  said  a  few  words  to  en- 
courage them.  They  were  resigned  and  bore  their 
suffering  without  any  complaint,  but  what  anguish 
I  read  in  the  eyes  that  were  already  becoming  dim! 


32  Brave  Belgians 

How  fervently  they  clasped  their  hands  together  in  a 
last  prayer! 

When  I  spoke  a  few  words  in  their  own  language  to 
the  German  wounded,  what  a  deafening  noise  began! 
They  cried,  moaned,  pitied  themselves  and,  imagining 
that  I  was  one  of  their  countrymen,  gave  me  farewell 
messages  for  their  relatives,  their  wives,  and  their 
children.  They  clung  to  me,  kissed  my  hands,  be- 
seeched  me  not  to  leave  them.  I  hurried  away  from 
this  hell  and  made  my  way  up  and  down  the  battle- 
field, in  search  of  wounded  men  to  relieve  and  dying 
ones  to  whom  to  administer  the  last  sacraments. 
There  in  front  of  me,  lay  more  than  five  thousand 
soldiers  of  the  Brandenburg,  Hanover,  and  Pomera- 
nian Corps.  The  ground  was  covered  with  a  grey 
cloak,  relieved  here  and  there  by  the  dark  patches  of 
our  Chasseurs'  uniforms.  From  this  field  of  suffering, 
coiild  be  heard  groans,  sobs,  and  the  death-rattle. 
It  was  horrible,  frightful!  Lying  on  his  back,  with 
a  fearful  wound,  a  poor  young  volunteer  of  some 
seventeen  years  old,  was  calling  out,  piteously, 
"Mother,  mother,  I  want  to  see  you!"  I  knelt  down 
beside  him  and  the  poor  boy  held  out  a  silver  coin  of 
fifty  centimes  to  me.  "It  is  all  I  have,"  he  said; 
"  I  want  to  send  it  to  the  church  where  I  was  baptised." 

I  was  moving  on,  when  a  Commander  suddenly 
forbade  me  to  go  forward.  "As  long  as  there  are 
any  wounded,  I  have  a  mission  to  fulfil,"  I  protested. 
He  finally  yielded  and  gave  me  two  soldiers  for  pro- 
tection. This  precaution  was  wise,  as,  a  minute 
later,  a  German  officer,  who  appeared  to  be  dead, 
fired  two  shots  from  his  revolver  at  me,  but  for- 
tunately he  failed  to  hit  his  mark.  After  this  I  was  ex- 
tremely cautious  in  approaching  any  officers  of  the 


The  Sart-Tilman  Combat  33 

enemy.  However  serious  their  wounds  might  be, 
they  always  clutched  their  swords  in  disdainful  silence, 
in  order  to  avoid  the  humiliation  of  being  disarmed. 
"I  wish  to  be  buried  with  my  sword  and  decorations," 
said  a  dying  German  Captain.  I  promised  him  that 
his  wish  should  be  respected  and  he  died  contented. 

With  the  most  admirable  devotion,  the  nurses  car- 
ried the  wounded  soldiers  to  the  ambulances  and, 
very  soon,  a  long  convoy  was  moving  along  the  An- 
gleur  road.  At  every  jerk,  cries  and  groans  could  be 
heard. 

Towards  evening,  I  was  alone  on  the  battle-field. 
A  gloomy  twilight  lit  up  this  plain  of  the  dead.  Dis- 
agreeable odours  mingled  with  the  sweet  scent  of  the 
woods.  There  was  not  a  murmiu",  not  a  rustle  or 
sound,  everywhere  peace  and  silence!  On  the  torn- 
up,  hollowed-out  ground,  were  heaps  and  heaps  of 
dark-looking,  horrible  terrifying  things.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  V 
The  Retreat  of  the  SOO 

By  Captain  of  the  14TH  Line  Regiment 

Among  the  episodes  of  the  war,  there  is  one  which, 
thanks  to  the  brilliant  result  obtained,  deserves  men- 
tion in  the  glorious  pages  of  our  history.  It  is  the 
retreat  carried  out  by  two  infantry  battalions,  the 
one  of  the  34th  Line  Regiment,  and  the  other  belong- 
ing to  the  fortress.  The  episode  occurred  eight  days 
after  the  occupation  of  Liege  by  the  German  troops 
when  the  place  appeared  to  be  completely  invested. 
The  1st  Battalion  of  the  34th  Line  Regiment,  after 
organising  the  defence  works  of  Werihet,  in  the  Bar- 
chon-Pontisse  sector,  was  sent  during  the  morning 
of  August  4th,  to  the  Embourg-Chaudfontaine  inter- 
val, with  the  mission  to  defend  the  valley  of  the  Vesdre, 
in  case  of  any  attacks  on  the  Vesdre  road  or  on  the 
Ninane  road.  Retrenchments  were  quickly  con- 
structed, ditches  dug,  and  quantities  of  sacks  of  earth 
piled  up.  In  short,  the  interval  was  soon  transformed 
into  a  regular  fortress.  The  Commander,  on  hearing 
that  the  enemy  was  advancing  on  Liege  and  had  sent 
out  reconnaissances  in  the  direction  of  Chaudfontaine, 
ordered  a  patrol  to  explore  the  Rochette  wood  to  the 
north-east  of  the  Fort.     This  patrol  returned  towards 

34 


The  Retreat  of  the  800  35 

four  in  the  afternoon,  bringing  Baron  von  Zutfen, 
Lieutenant  of  the  2nd  Chasseurs  of  Ziethcn,  as  pri- 
soner. This  feat  was  cheered,  and  it  was  with  lively 
curiosity  that  our  soldiers  gathered  round  the  first 
German  prisoner. 

The  order  to  retreat  given,  on  August  6th,  to  the 
troops  fighting  in  the  intervals  round  the  Liege  posi- 
tion did  not  affect  this  Battalion,  so  that  all  day  long, 
on  August  5th,  6th,  and  7th,  the  men  were  employed 
in  completing  the  defence  of  the  valley.  During  the 
morning  of  August  8th,  the  news  spread  that  German 
troops  had  entered  Liege.  Measures  were  immediately 
taken  for  repulsing  any  aggression  from  the  town  side. 
It  was  hoped  that,  even  if  the  enemy  had  succeeded 
in  penetrating,  it  might  only  have  been  by  forcing 
the  Fleron,  Evegnee,  and  Barchon  intervals.  If  this 
were  the  case,  though,  the  situation  was  critical  for 
the  Belgian  Corps,  and  the  Commander  was  surprised 
that  he  had  received  no  instructions.  From  another 
side,  persistent  rumours  were  afloat,  announcing  the 
arrival  of  the  campaigning  army  through  Waremme, 
reinforced  by  a  French  contingent.  What  were  we 
to  believe?  Messengers  sent  to  General  Leman  did 
not  return  and  the  days  passed  by  in  anxious  waiting. 
Every  instant  we  had  news  to  the  effect  that  the 
circle  was  getting  more  and  more  hard  pressed.  Offi- 
cers and  soldiers  were  anxiously  wondering  whether 
they  would  be  able  to  hold  out.  On  the  loth,  nth, 
and  12th,  there  had  already  been  various  skirmishes 
between  detachments  of  the  enemy  who  had  made 
use  of  the  Red  Cross  flag  in  order  to  approach,  and 
patrols  of  a  company  in  retrenchment  on  the  Vesdre- 
road,  near  the  second  milestone.  A  few  enemy 
prisoners  were  taken. 


36  Brave  Belgians 

On  the  1 2th,  at  4.30  p.m.,  a  terrible  bombarding  of 
the  Chaudfontaine  Fort  commenced,  which  never 
ceased  until  9.30.  The  following  morning  at  five 
o'clock,  the  cannonading  recommenced  most  violently, 
the  Fort  was  blown  up,  and  the  enemy  surrounding  it 
rushed  from  every  side  to  the  assault.  The  Embourg 
Fort  met  with  the  same  fate.  Finally  on  the  morning 
of  the  13th,  towards  nine  o'clock,  a  courier  arrived 
at  Chateau  Nagelmackers,  where  the  Commander  was 
staying,  with  an  order  from  General  Leman  calling 
for  the  troops  at  Awans. 

Just  as  the  2nd  Company,  which  had  been  guarding 
the  Chaudfontaine  and  Ninane  roads,  was  setting 
out,  it  was  surrounded  by  an  enemy  column  and 
taken  prisoner.  The  two  remaining  companies  climbed 
the  hill  and  reached  the  Henne  Chateau  and  the  Basse- 
Mehagne  farm.  On  arriving  there,  the  ist  Company, 
which  formed  the  rear-guard  and  was  being  attacked 
on  its  flank  by  a  detachment  coming  from  Chenee, 
executed  a  helter-skelter  firing  on  the  adversary, 
whose  shooting  gradually  became  less  and  less  intense. 
Finally,  the  enemy  retreated,  so  that  the  little  Belgian 
column  was  able  to  continue  its  march  towards  Em- 
bourg, where  it  rejoined  the  3rd  Company  as  well  as 
a  fortress  battalion,  which  was  also  without  instruc- 
tions and  was  endeavouring  to  escape.  These  various 
troops,  after  crossing  the  Ourthe,  some  in  little  boats 
and  others  by  a  chance  foot-bridge  thrown  across  the 
river  opposite  Rousseau  Island,  climbed  the  Sart- 
Tilman,  keeping  by  the  Boficelles  Fort,  which  was 
already  being  watched  by  the  enemy,  passed  through 
the  village  in  ruins,  driving  back  the  sentinel  occupy- 
ing the  Vecqu^e  woods  and,  just  escaping  a  cavalry 
detachment,  finally  reached  the  Communes. 


The  Retreat  of  the  800  37 

Our  poor  soldiers  were  thoroughly  exhausted; 
they  had  been  overpowered  by  the  heat  and  tortured 
by  hunger  and  thirst.  Fortunately  the  population, 
although  somewhat  taken  aback  by  their  arrival, 
did  all  in  its  power  to  supply  them  with  provisions. 

The  retreat  then  continued  in  the  direction  of  the 
Val  St.  Lambert  bridge,  which,  according  to  informa- 
tion received,  was  being  guarded  by  about  a  score  of 
men.  Although  obstructed  by  a  train  and  various 
accessory  defences,  it  could  still  be  crossed  in  Indian 
file.  All  measures  were  taken  for  a  bayonet  attack 
and,  in  the  muddle  of  the  night,  our  men  advanced 
silently.  To  their  amazement  there  was  no  one  there. 
What  had  become  of  the  troops  which  had  charge  of 
the  defence  of  the  bridge?  Had  they  made  off? 
This  remained  a  mystery.  The  crossing  of  the  bridge 
took  some  time,  but  the  men  were  encouraged  by  this 
incident  and  the  column  set  off  once  more,  passing 
through  Flemalle  and  Mons-Crotteux.  After  a  most 
difficult  march,  beset  by  ambushes  of  all  kinds,  it 
finally  arrived  at  Awans-Bierzet,  on  August  14th, 
at  about  2.30.  It  took  up  its  quarters  here,  whilst 
awaiting  orders  from.  General  Leman.  The  enemy 
had  been  seen  in  the  neighbourhood,  so  that  the  roads 
were  guarded  and  urgent  measures  of  security  were 
taken.  Various  incidents  took  place  before  the  end 
of  the  day  and  German  detachments,  which  were 
approaching  the  Loncin  Fort,  had  to  be  dispersed, 
causing  us  some  losses. 

From  information  received  from  various  sources, 
we  gathered  that  the  enemy  was  endeavouring  to  cut 
off  the  retreat.  In  case  this  were  so,  there  was  nothing 
left  but  to  fight  to  the  last  man.  The  soldiers  and 
their  officers  were  very  much  troubled,  as  they  feared 


38  Brave  Belgians 

they  had  not  rendered  all  the  services  to  their  country 
which  it  had  a  right  to  expect  from  its  defenders. 
The  bombarding  of  the  Loncin  Fort  began  at  3  p.m. 
and  increased  rapidly  in  intensity. 

To  those  military  men  who  had  been  present  at  the 
fall  of  Chaudfontaine,  it  seemed  certain  that  Loncin 
would  share  the  same  fate.  There  appeared  to  be 
only  one  thing  to  do  and  that  was  to  join,  at  all  costs, 
the  fighting  army,  certain  elements  of  which  were 
then  in  the  Huy  suburbs.  After  such  intense  ner- 
vous excitement  as  they  had  just  undergone,  after 
so  much  fighting  and  such  long  marches,  the  men 
were  exhausted.  Thanks  to  the  rousing  words  of 
their  chiefs  and  to  their  own  earnest  wish  to  avoid 
falling  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  they  decided  to 
make  a  supreme  effort  in  order  to  escape  from  the 
vice,  the  jaws  of  which  were  gradually  closing  round 
them.  The  posts  were  withdrawn  silently,  between 
8  and  9  p.m.,  and  the  column,  assembled  behind  the 
church,  was  prepared  to  take  its  fate  into  its  hands. 
The  commanders  of  the  Hollogne  and  Flemalle  Forts 
were  informed  that  friendly  troops  would  soon  be 
passing  within  their  zone  of  action,  in  an  attempt  to 
join  the  army  in  campaign. 

A  somewhat  extraordinary  itinerary  was  chosen, 
in  order  to  avoid  the  most  frequented  roads.  The 
column  was  to  go  from  Awans-Bierzet  to  Hollogne, 
Mons-Crotteux,  Horion-Hozemont,  Haneffe,  Chapon- 
Seraing,  Villers-le-Bouillet,  and  Huy.  In  spite  of 
fatigue,  which  made  this  night  march  excessively 
difficult,  not  a  single  man  dragged  behind,  not  a 
single  one  fell  out.  Each  one  of  them  was  determined 
to  carry  out  the  plan  decided  on.  In  the  early  dawn, 
the  column  was  within  sight  of  Haneffe,  which  was 


The  Retreat  of  the  800  39 

evidently  in  the  power  of  the  enemy,  as  a  platoon  of 
Uhlans  was  to  be  seen  patrolling  the  country  round. 
Fortunately  this  was  not  an  important  detachment 
and,  after  a  feeble  resistance,  it  was  driven  out  of  the 
village. 

The  Belgian  troop  continued  its  march  southwards. 
At  seven  o'clock,  it  surprised  a  flank  guard  of  the 
same  cavalry  bivouacking  in  a  field.  At  a  distance 
of  about  five  hundred  yards,  the  elements  at  the 
head  of  the  column  opened  fire  and  the  Uhlans,  with- 
out even  having  time  to  mount,  took  flight  in  all 
directions.  They  were  impeded  by  their  riding  boots 
and  spurs.  Some  of  them  stumbled  and  fell  and,  on 
getting  up,  started  off  faster  than  before.  This 
excited  our  men  to  hurry  along  in  pursuit  of  them. 
Two  of  the  least  agile  of  the  horsemen  were  caught 
and  taken  prisoners.  The  horses  took  fright,  broke 
loose,  and  galloped  all  over  the  country.  The  sight 
would  have  amused  us  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  dead 
and  wounded  who  were  lying  on  the  ground. 

The  valiant  little  troop  now  continued  its  way  in 
the  direction  of  Chapon-Seraing,  where  the  soldiers 
had  refreshments  and  then  went  on  to  Villers-le- 
Bouillet,  which  was  to  have  been  the  end  of  their 
trying  march,  as,  according  to  our  latest  information, 
the  28th  Line  Regiment  was  there.  Once  more  we 
were  to  have  a  cruel  disappointment,  as,  on  arriving, 
we  found  that  the  troops  which  had  been  occupying 
the  village  had  left  the  previous  evening. 

Fortunately  Huy  was  only  five  miles  distant. 
Another  effort  was  made,  and  slowly,  with  bleeding 
feet,  exhausted  by  fatigue  and  half  dead  with  hunger 
and  thirst,  the  soldiers,  leaning  on  sticks  which  they 
had  torn  from  the  trees  on  the  way,   dragged    them- 


40  Brave  Belgians 

selves  along  the  dusty  horse-road.  This  last  stage 
of  the  journey,  although  the  shortest,  was  the  most 
painful  of  any.  When  once  we  had  reached  Huy, 
there  was  still  another  disappointment.  The  28th 
had  left  the  town  at  midnight.  From  the  heights 
which  dominate  the  left  bank  of  the  Meuse,  could  be 
seen  enemy  patrols.  From  one  minute  to  another, 
strong  enemy  forces  might  appear.  The  men  were 
terribly  exhausted.  In  spite  of  the  overwhelming 
heat,  they  had  marched  for  sixteen  hours  at  a  time, 
during  two  days.  The  question  was  would  they  have 
strength  enough  to  start  again  and  to  continue  their 
march  as  far  as  Couthuin,  where  the  28th  had  gone?  At 
the  station  there  was  neither  an  engine  nor  a  waggon. 
After  some  parleying,  however,  the  station-master  of 
Huy-Statte  succeeded  in  getting  a  train  from  Nam^che 
and,  at  12.30,  the  column  set  out  by  rail  for  Namur. 

In  spite  of  the  extreme  fatigue  of  these  brave  men, 
it  would  be  impossible  to  give  an  idea  of  the  joy  de- 
picted on  all  their  faces.  Nothing  could  prove  the 
determination  of  each  one  of  them  to  escape  the  enemy 
better  than  the  result  obtained  by  this  supreme  eflEort. 
Not  one  of  those  who  left  Awans  on  the  night  of  the 
14th  had  fallen  out  of  the  column.  Every  man  of  the 
little  phalanx  answered  to  the  roll-call  at  Namur. 
At  the  College  de  la  Paix,  where  they  were  all  quar- 
tered, the  doctors  soon  dressed  their  bleeding  feet. 

Thanks  to  their  force  of  character,  to  their  excep- 
tional powers  of  endurance,  and  to  their  extraordinary 
courage,  these  heroes  escaped  a  humiliating  captivity. 
A  few  days  later,  they  were  to  be  seen  once  more  on 
the  battle-fields  of  Antwerp  and  of  the  Yser,  fighting 
desperately  with  the  enemy,  and  ready  again  to 
sacrifice  their  lives  for  their  country. 


CHAPTER  VI 
Chaudfontaine 

(August,  1914) 

By  Count  Gaston  de  Ribaucourt,  Sub-Lieutenant  of  the 
Heavy  Howitzer  Corps 

As  soon  as  the  mobilisation  was  decreed,  I  went  to 
the  War  Oflfice  to  ask  what  services  I  could  render 
as  electrical  engineer.  I  was  advised  to  go,  as  quickly 
as  possible,  to  the  fortified  position  of  Liege,  as  tech- 
nical help  was  needed  there  for  preparing  the  defence. 

I  arrived  there  the  evening  of  August  3rd  and,  the 
following  morning,  was  engaged  for  the  Chaudfontaine 
Fort.  The  next  thing  was  to  fit  myself  out.  I  went 
at  once  to  the  Citadel,  which  looked  like  a  huge  hive. 
Every  different  service  was  in  full  swing  and  the  most 
perfect  order  and  activity  reigned.  Ten  minutes 
later,  I  was  equipped  as  an  artiller>Tnan  and,  with  my 
bag  in  my  hand  and  my  field-glasses  strapped  round 
my  back,  was  on  the  way  to  the  train  which  took  me, 
after  changing,  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  which  dominates 
the  Fort. 

It  was  a  warm,  bright  August  day  and  I  climbed  the 
steep  hill  at  a  rapid  pace,  without  giving  a  thought 
to  the  beautiful  landscape-  around  me.  An  hour 
later,  I  had  reached  that  little  nest  of  defence  which 

41 


42  Brave  Belgians 

we  call  a  fort,  and  was  glad  to  be  able  to  offer  all  the 
energy,  intelligence,  and  knowledge  that  I  possessed 
for  the  service  of  my  country,  which  was  symbolised 
for  me  by  the  flag  which  floated  at  the  summit  of 
the  hill. 

Everything  had  already  a  warlike  aspect.  Here 
and  there,  trees  had  been  felled  in  all  their  verdure. 
Barbed  wire  trellises  had  been  stretched  across  the 
most  accessible  passes.  Sentinels  stationed  here  and 
there  stopped  me  and,  after  questioning  me  and 
hearing  why  I  was  there,  gave  me  a  friendly  salute. 
An  orderly  on  guard  took  me  to  the  ofhcers  in  charge. 
I  was  at  once  received,  installed  in  my  new  quarters 
and  welcomed  with  enthusiasm  and  with  that  feverish 
energy  which  characterised  the  combatants  of  our 
heroic  resistance. 

I  set  to  work  at  once,  for  I  had  much  to  learn.  In 
the  first  place,  there  was  the  observation  of  the  firing 
range,  then  the  regulating  of  the  cannons  and  all  the 
electrical  mechanism  of  the  accessory  services,  the 
registering  of  the  mine  chambers,  of  the  wire  entangle- 
ments, etc.  All  this  took  up  the  rest  of  my  morning 
and  it  was  only  later  on  that  I  could  begin  to  think 
of  the  special  functions  which  had  been  delegated  to  me. 

Concealed  among  the  hills  which  dominate  the 
east  of  Liege,  protected  in  a  semi-circle  by  one  of  the 
windings  of  the  River  Vesdre,  the  Chaudfontaine 
Fort,  of  triangular  form,  was  intended,  together  with 
the  Fleron  and  Evegnee  Forts,  to  cover  the  Herve 
plateau.  From  its  position,  it  seemed  as  though  it 
would  be  the  object  of  the  enemy's  first  efforts. 
Behind  the  Fort,  emerging  from  the  abrupt  slope  of 
the  valley,  could  be  seen,  standing  out  against  the 
sky,  4  corner  of  Liege,  that  corner  which  was  so  fami- 


Chaudfontaine  43 

liar  to  all  Belgians,  thanks  to  the  Exhibition  of  the 
75th  anniversary.  In  the  foreground,  a  little  to  the 
right,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  away,  was  Chevremont 
Abbey,  and  on  the  slopes  were  the  villages  of  Romsfe 
and  Magnee,  their  red  roofs,  and  their  active,  suburban 
life  giving  a  gay  touch  to  the  landscape. 

A  telephone  message  suddenly  broke  the  calm,  by 
announcing  the  approach  of  the  enemy.     The  village 
of  Foret,  situated  on  the  east,  became  the  object  of 
all  our  attention,  and  very  soon  we  saw  the  sombre 
procession  of  grey  uniforms  appearing   on  the  scene. 
The  Commander  of  the  Fort  assembled  his  men  on 
the  parapets  and,  after  a  few  rousing  words,  gave  his 
little  garrison  the  order  to  open  fire.     When  the  first 
cannon   was   fired,    each    man    returned    quickly   to 
his   post.     As   my    service   was   the    observation   of 
the  firing  range,  I  hurried  to  the  plain  and,  under 
cover  of  the   surrounding   woods,   reached  the  spot 
which  had  been  indicated  to  me.  Thanks  to  my  por- 
tative telephone,  I  could  then  direct  the  first  shooting. 
At  the  second  firing,  the  shells  and  shrapnels  burst 
over  the  village  and  it  was  at  once  evident  that  the 
quick  firing  from  the  Fort  and  the  batteries  were  pro- 
ducing excellent  results.      With  my  field-glasses,   I 
could  distinctly  see  the  enemy  stop  short,  hesitate, 
and  finally  retreat,  as  it  was  hopeless  to  fight  with  an 
invisible  adversary. 

This  prompt  defence  probably  preserved  our  Fort 
from  the  terrible  assaults  sustained,  during  the  night, 
by  the  neighbouring  ones.  The  simultaneous  attack 
of  all  the  forts  of  the  Vesdre-]\Ieuse  sector  was  one 
of  the  most  impressive  sights  I  witnessed  during  the 
whole  campaign.  It  began  in  the  evening  by  an  in- 
tense   bombarding    by    the    German    light    artillery, 


44  Brave  Belgians 

answered  heroically  by  the  whole  Liege  defence.  The 
incessant  cannonading  was  dominated  by  the  louder 
voice  of  the  big  fortress  guns.  The  wan  flashes  from 
the  cannon  burst  forth  in  thousands,  while  through 
the  darkness  the  crude  searchlights  were  projected, 
in  an  attempt  to  find  the  enemy's  batteries.  From 
time  to  time,  during  a  moment's  calm,  could  be  heard 
the  cries  and  moans  of  the  German  wounded,  caught 
in  the  barbed  wire  and  fired  on  by  the  machine-guns. 
All  this  gave  a  magnificent,  and  at  the  same  time, 
frightful,  aspect  to  the  scene. 

The  following  day,  the  morning  was  more  calm, 
when  suddenly  we  were  informed  that  an  infantry 
regiment,  after  creeping  through  the  woods,  had  taken 
possession  of  the  Foret  Chateau.  Posted  on  the 
parapet,  I  directed  open  firing  on  the  enemy  there. 
The  distance  had  been  very  exactly  gauged,  so  that 
our  prey  was  an  easy  one  and  our  first  shell  fell  right 
on  the  building. 

Just  as  from  an  ant  heap,  suddenly  destroyed  by  a 
kick,  myriads  of  Boches  rushed  out,  seeking  refuge 
among  the  trees  of  the  park  and  in  a  hollow  road 
near  by.  Carefully  directed,  the  projectiles  followed 
them  everywhere  and  reached  them  in  their  hiding- 
places,  so  that  very  soon  the  lawns  were  strewn  with 
wounded  or  dead  men.  The  enemy  was  once  more 
obliged  to  disappear  and  nothing  was  now  to  be  seen 
but  convoys  of  ambulance  cars,  taking  away  those 
over  whom  Death  had  only  hovered. 

The  resistance  now  became  more  and  more  difficult, 
as  the  enemy  had  managed  to  place  batteries  at  points 
near  enough  to  the  Fort  to  reach  it  without  being 
exposed.  It  was,  therefore,  necessary  to  discover 
fresh    observation   posts.     I  was  designated  for  this 


Chaudfontaine  45 

service  and,  accompanied  by  a  corporal,  I  set 
out.  For  nearly  an  hour  we  advanced,  burrow- 
ing and  hiding,  in  order  to  discover  the  enemy's 
positions.  It  was  my  first  experience  with  shrap- 
nels rifling  the  ground  in  every  direction,  in 
order  to  prevent  observation.  The  Germans  fired  in 
volleys  of  four  and,  every  time  we  heard  the  projectiles 
arriving,  we  had  to  lie  down  and  then  get  up  directly 
after  the  explosion,  in  order  to  locate  the  batteries. 
I  discovered  them,  at  last,  behind  a  hedge  in  one  of 
the  Roms^e  gardens.  As  soon  as  I  had  informed  the 
Fort,  a  few  shots  were  fired  in  order  to  find  the  exact 
spot  and  then  the  German  batteries  had  such  a  deluge 
of  fire  that,  in  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  posi- 
tion was  considered  impossible  by  them  and  at  once 
evacuated.  But  the  iron  circle  was  gradually  closing 
round  us.  After  two  days  of  heroic  effort,  the  3rd 
Division  had  been  obliged  to  retreat,  leaving  the  forts 
to  their  fate.  Threatened  on  all  sides,  it  was  indis- 
pensable for  us  to  establish  a  high  observatory  which 
should  supply  us  with  necessary  information,  as  this 
was  absolutely  lacking  since  the  departure  of  our 
covering  infantry. 

A  few  miles  to  the  left  of  the  Fort,  the  spire  of  the 
Chdvremont  church  stood  out  proudly  against  the 
sky.  The  old  abbey,  a  vestige  of  a  former  epoch,  was 
to  help  in  our  powerful  modern  defence  work.  By 
order  of  the  Commander  of  the  Fort,  I  set  out  in  the 
night,  to  establish,  as  invisibly  as  possible,  a  telephonic 
line  which  should  connect  the  observatory  with  the 
Fort.  Fastening  the  wire  through  the  brambles  which 
abound  in  this  district,  and  placing  it  along  the  road, 
I  was  fortunate  enough  to  see  my  efforts  crowned  with 
success.     Getting  the  wire  into  the  abbey  was  more 


46  Brave  Belgians 

difficult.  Fortunately  I  was  able  to  make  use  of  the 
poles  which  served  for  the  electric  light.  I  had  to 
replace  the  wire  of  the  lightning  conductor,  along  a 
stake,  by  a  telephonic  wire  and,  following  the  other 
canalisations,  bring  it  as  far  as  the  church.  This 
took  me  a  good  part  of  the  morning,  but,  by  ten 
o'clock,  after  inventing  a  whole  system  of  cords  and 
ladders,  I  was  finally  established  in  the  top  of  the 
spire.  Thanks  to  a  slate  I  had  removed,  I  could  see 
the  country  round  to  the  east  and  north-east  and,  by 
means  of  the  subterranean  telephonic  wires,  I  could 
communicate  information  concerning  the  slightest 
incident  at  Fleron  and  at  Evegnee,  and  thus  render 
valuable  service  to  the  defence. 

For  the  next  four  or  five  days,  I  lived  inside  this 
spire,  with  a  sub-officer.  Twice  only,  a  Belgian  patrol 
paid  us  a  visit.  The  rest  of  the  time,  only  Germans 
prowled  round.  Many  were  the  alerts  which  sur- 
prised us.  A  dozen  men,  belonging  to  the  German 
infantry,  spent  half  a  day  inspecting  the  abbey  to 
see  if  there  were  reall}^  no  Belgian  soldier  hidden  there. 
Another  day,  just  as  we  were  looking  through  our 
window,  we  caught  sight  of  a  German  patrol  looking 
up.  That  was  an  alarming  moment.  We  wondered 
what  to  do.  If  we  moved  away,  it  would  make  a 
change  in  the  appearance  of  the  window.  By  stay- 
ing, we  risked  betraying  otu*selves  and  should  prob- 
ably be  killed.  This  torture  lasted  half  an  hour. 
At  a  certain  moment,  I  saw  six  men  of  the  patrol 
take  aim  at  the  window.  Fortunately,  the  sub- 
officer  evidently  thought  better  of  it  and  did  not  give 
the  command  to  fire.  Remaining  motionless  had 
saved  our  lives.  Two  men  who  had  inspected  the 
tower  had  reported  to  their  chief  that   there  was 


Chaudfontaine  47 

nothing  suspicious,  and  the  seven  Boches  went  away 
slowly,  singing  as  they  went. 

August  nth  was  fatal  to  us.  In  the  morn- 
ing, towards  six  o'clock,  although  I  had  taken  the 
precaution  to  hide  in  a  closed  chapel,  I  was  noticed 
by  a  man  in  the  neighbourhood.  Two  hours  later, 
when  I  was  at  my  post  of  observation,  I  saw  that  the 
abbey,  and  particularly  the  church,  was  the  aim  of 
the  enemy.  After  three  or  four  trial  shots,  a  shell 
reached  the  roof  of  the  church  and  then  the  volleys 
were  repeated  quickly.  I  was  just  endeavouring  to 
locate  an  enemy  battery  which  was  bombarding 
Fldron  from  Beau-Tilly.  Whilst  I  was  giving  indica- 
tions about  this,  I  was  obliged  to  climb  up  into  the 
steeple,  which  was  the  only  place  of  escape  from  the 
firing.  Batteries  concealed  behind  the  Chenee  sta- 
tion were  destroying  the  abbey.  What  terrible 
moments  I  spent  up  there !  I  was  alone  in  the  steeple, 
as  my  companion  had  gone  to  take  his  meal  and  could 
not  get  back  to  me.  I  stayed  there  as  long  as  I  could 
give  any  useful  information.  For  two  long  hours  the 
projectiles  rained  on  the  abbey.  Presently,  the 
steeple  itself  was  hit.  A  shell  burst  in  the  wood- 
work over  my  head,  took  off  my  forage  cap,  and 
smashed  the  telephone  in  front  of  me.  I  was  almost 
buried  under  the  heaps  of  slate  and  wood  and  was 
half  stunned  by  the  violence  of  the  blow.  I  thought 
my  last  hour  had  come.  It  was  only  at  that  moment 
that  I  thought  of  my  tragic  position  and,  on  turning 
round,  I  saw  that  the  roof  of  the  choir  was  on  fire.  It 
was  quite  time  to  get  away.  As  I  descended  the 
ladder,  I  discovered  that  I  was  slightly  wounded  in  the 
knee.  It  was  only  a  big  surface  wound  though.  I 
pulled  myself  together,   rushed  quickly   down   and, 


48  Brave  Belgians 

amidst  all  the  debris  that  was  falling  on  every  side, 
made  my  way  to  the  cellars,  which  the  Fathers,  the 
last  few  days,  had  been  transforming  into  a  shelter. 
An  impressive  scene  awaited  me  there.  In  the  middle 
of  the  subterranean  vault,  two  Fathers  and  my 
companion  were  kneeling  in  prayer  round  the  Holy 
Sacrament,  which  they  had  taken  from  the  church 
at  the  beginning  of  the  bombardment.  Their  joy 
was  great  on  seeing  me  appear,  for  they  thought  I 
must  have  been  dead  some  time. 

For  the  next  hour,  we  remained  there,  praying  God 
to  protect  us.  In  the  meantime,  a  great  part  of  the 
abbey  fell  in.  Nothing  remained  of  the  church  but 
ruins.  The  valuable  library  was  now  only  a  heap 
of  cinders,  and  was  still  burning. 

Believing  that  they  had  attained  their  end,  the 
German  batteries  now  ceased  firing.  We  were  obliged 
to  spend  the  rest  of  the  day,  though,  amidst  these  niins, 
which  presented  a  sinister  appearance,  and  wait  imtil 
the  darkness  to  go  back  to  the  Fort.  In  the  night,  feel- 
ing that  at  any  rate  we  had  done  our  duty,  the  sub- 
officer  and  I  started  on  our  way,  stealing  along  for 
two  miles,  through  country  occupied  by  the  enemy.  It 
seemed  a  long,  long  way,  beset  as  it  was  with  danger. 
Several  times  we  had  to  crouch  down  and  hide  until 
German  patrols  had  passed  by,  only  a  few  yards 
away  from  us.  Finally,  we  caught  sight  of  the  out- 
line of  a  Belgian  sentinel  and,  a  few  minutes  later, 
were  back  in  the  Fort,  where  the  story  of  our  adven- 
tures was  enjoyed  by  all  and  we  were  congratulated 
by  the  officers. 

August  1 2th  was  a  wretched  day  for  us,  as 
there  was  no  more  observation  possible.  The  big 
cannons  had  begun  firing  and  our  last  moment  was 


Chaudfontaine  49 

approaching.  The  hours  seem  interminable  when  the 
firing  is  only  haphazard  from  the  remaining  cannons, 
and  when  one  fires  with  the  idea  of  using  up  the  ammu- 
nition, quite  as  much  as  for  the  sake  of  endeavouring 
to  injure  the  enemy. 

Chaudfontaine  was  in  a  deplorable  state.  We  could 
have  no  light  at  night,  as  a  shell  had  fallen,  without 
bursting,  into  the  chimney  of  the  steam  engine.  The 
Commander  was  determined  to  defend  his  Fort  up  to 
the  very  last  and  had  posted  men  on  the  slopes  to 
fight  with  the  bayonet  and  endeavour  to  repulse  the 
attack  which  was  expected  in  the  night. 

With  our  hearts  full  of  fury,  we  were  all  determined 
to  give  our  lives  for  our  King  and  our  Country,  and 
our  fellow-feeling  caused  the  soul  of  each  man  to  rise 
to  the  same  level.  Whilst  the  others  were  keeping 
watch,  with  the  help  of  a  few  men  I  endeavotired  to 
get  the  accursed  shell  out  of  our  machinery.  It  was 
nearly  three  in  the  morning  when  we  succeeded  in 
our  task.  Everything  was  quickly  put  in  order,  and 
it  was  with  a  hearty  outburst  of  our  national  anthem 
that  our  brave  men  greeted  the  light  which  poured 
from  the  electric  projectors  twenty  minutes  later. 
This  seemed  like  life  renewed,  and  with  it  came  re- 
newed hope.  Another  day  had  commenced  and  the 
Fort  was  not  taken.  That  morning,  alas,  all  hope 
was  crushed,  for,  as  soon  as  it  was  daylight,  huge 
projectiles  came  at  regular  intervals  and  we  could 
not  reply  to  them,  as  they  came  from  too  great  a 
distance.  Towards  nine  o'clock,  when  I  was  in  the 
officers'  shooting  gallery,  a  shock,  accompanied  by  a 
terrific  report,  shook  the  whole  interior  of  the  Fort. 
An  immense  "38"  had  just  burst  in  the  powder-room 
and  the  Fort  was  blown  up.  I  was  thrown  against 
4 


50  Brave  Belgians 

the  opposite  wall,  and  dragged  myself  to  the  door 
through  the  debris.  With  another  officer,  I  crossed 
the  hall,  which  had  been  transformed  into  a  barracks, 
and  there  a  fearful  sight  met  my  eyes.  At  the  moment 
of  the  explosion,  a  hundred  and  forty  men  of  the 
garrison  had  been  lying  there  on  straw  or  on  mat- 
tresses, and  now,  in  tragic  horror,  I  saw  the  whole  of 
this  place  on  fire.  Straw,  mattresses,  and  soldiers, 
all  were  burning  together!  In  the  midst  of  this 
brasier,  wretched  men  were  struggling,  with  their 
clothes  all  in  flames,  like  veritable  living  torches. 
We  could  scarcely  drag  one  of  them  from  the  furnace. 
It  was  a  horrible  death,  worthy  of  the  martyrs  of 
old.  From  the  midst  of  the  fire,  dominating  the 
groans,  moans,  and  shrieks  of  suffering,  some  voices 
could  be  heard  uttering  the  supreme  cry  of  "Hurrah 
for  the  King!"  "Hurrah  for  our  Country!" 


CHAPTER  Vn 

Loncin  Fort 

From  Accounts  by  the  Army  Doctors:  Maloens,  of  the 
3RD  Battery  of  Heavy  Howitzers;  Courtin,  of  the 
1ST  Chasseurs;  Roskam,  of  the  14TH  Line  Regiment; 
Defalle,  Director  of  the  Calais  Municipal  Creche 
Ambulance;  and  Quartermaster  Krantz,  of  the 
Gendarmerie 

On  the  morning  of  August  6,  1914,  Lieutenant- 
General  Leman  suddenly  arrived  at  the  Loncin  Fort. 

"An  attempt  has  just  been  made  to  assassinate  me," 
he  said  to  Captain  Naessens,  Commander  of  the  Fort, 
"I  have  come  to  take  refuge  behind  your  cannons." 

The  Captain  immediately  asked  him  for  orders. 

"I  have  no  orders  to  give  you  here,"  replied  the 
General.  "You  give  your  own  orders  in  the  Fort. 
My  business  is  to  attend  to  the  defence  of  the  fortified 
position." 

The  Commander  of  the  Fort  immediately  called  his 
men  together  and  addressed  them  in  French  and  in 
Flemish : 

"General  Leman  has  done  us  the  great  honour  of 
taking  refuge  with  us,  my  boys,"  he  said.  "Shall 
we  give  up  the  General?" 

51 


52  Brave  Belgians  » 

There  were  cries  of  "No!     No!"  on  all  sides. 

"Well,  then,  if  we  have  decided  not  to  give  up  the 
General,  we  shall  perish  here.  For,  either  the  Fort 
will  be  blown  up  and  I  shall  be  blown  up  with  you, 
or  the  Germans  will  come  up  here  to  attack  us 
and,  when  they  have  passed  the  accessory  defences, 
walking  over  the  dead  bodies  of  their  own  men, 
we  shall  form  a  last  square.  I  shall  keep  seven 
bullets  in  my  Browning,  six  for  my  enemies  and 
the  last  for  myself  and  we  will  all  go  together  to 
Paradise." 

Commander  Naessens,  a  short,  thick-set  man,  with 
a  very  determined  face,  and  steel-blue,  piercing  eyes, 
was  adored  by  his  men,  and  this  speech  was  greeted 
with  indescribable  enthusiasm. 

"You  must  all  swear  that  you  will  never  yield," 
he  cried,  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult.  Thereupon, 
one  by  one,  the  soldiers  filed  up  to  their  Commander 
and  took  this  solemn  oath. 

From  that  moment,  Naessens  had  his  men  thor- 
oughly in  hand.  They  would  stand  by  him  to  the 
very  death  and  his  greatest  pride  was  to  be  able  to 
reply  to  the  General's  question:  "Are  you  sure  of 
your  men?"  with  the  words:  "As  sure  as  I  am  of 
myself.  General!" 

It  was  quite  true,  too.  They  were  absolutely 
ready  for  anything.  If  volunteers  were  wanted 
for  a  dangerous  expedition,  double  the  number 
needed  volunteered  to  go  and  they  all  beseeched 
the  Commander  to  let  them  be  the  ones  chosen. 
Those  who  were  not  accepted  went  away  greatly 
disappointed. 

Three  or  four  of  those  brave  fellows  had  formed 
themselves  into  a  band  which  was  known  as  "the 


Loncin  Fort  53 

Bonnot  Band."  Armed  with  guns  or  carbines,  these 
explorers  set  off,  each  day,  in  a  motor-car  and  acted 
either  as  a  liaison  between  Loncin  and  the  Forts  which 
were  still  holding  out,  or  as  a  patrol  for  getting  infor- 
mation for  the  Commander,  with  reference  to  the 
presence  of  the  enemy.  Their  daring  was  amazing. 
On  one  occasion  the  Commander's  horse,  whilst  graz- 
ing in  a  neighbouring  enclosure,  had  been  killed. 
This  "Band"  promised  to  provide  him  with  another 
mount.  A  few  hours  later,  they  returned  with  the 
horses  of  two  German  officers,  laden  with  helmets 
and  lances. 

After  the  combats  round  Liege,  soldiers  of  the  ist 
and  4th  Unmounted  Chasseurs  and  of  the  9th  and  14th 
Line  Regiments,  men  who  had  lost  their  units,  came 
to  take  refuge  in  the  Loncin  Fort,  but,  the  following 
day,  the  Commander  sent  an  officer  with  them  to 
Waremme,  only  keeping  for  himself  his  own  garrison 
cf  about  five  hundred  men.  This  number  was  really 
sufficient  and,  during  the  terrible  days  from  August 
6th  to  15th,  the  calmness  and  indifference  to  danger 
of  these  men  were  admirable. 

During  a  violent  bombardment,  General  Leman, 
on  coming  into  the  central  building  with  Commander 
Naessens,  saw  a  little  scene  which  moved  him  to  tears. 
The  men,  scattered  about  in  little  groups,  were  play- 
ing cards  or  talking  together  quite  tranquilly,  whilst, 
in  one  corner,  indifferent  to  the  noise,  a  soldier  was 
playing  some  Liege  cramignons  on  a  flute,  and  his 
comrades,  standing  round  him,  were  singing  the 
refrains  in  chorus. 


54  Brave  Belgians 

The  following  notes  are  taken  from  the  diary  of  Quartennaster 
Krantz  of  the  Gendarmerie,  who  had  been  appointed  bodyguard 
to  General  Leman.  After  the  explosion  of  the  Loncin  Fort, 
Krantz,  with  eight  serious  wounds,  was  taken  to  the  St.  Servais 
College  of  Lidge. 

August  yth.  The  fortress  Infantry,  sent  out  to 
reconnoitre,  called  our  attention  to  a  patrol  of  Uhlans 
on  their  way  from  Ans  to  Loncin.  It  was  at  once 
dispersed  by  one  of  our  sub-officers,  at  the  head  of  his 
section.  We  learnt  from  some  courageous  men  that 
the  German  Field  Artillery  had  taken  position  near 
the  Ans  aviation  base. 

August  8th.  During  the  morning,  German  patrols, 
which  had  reached  Awans,  were  driven  back  by  our 
shrapnels  and  our  Infantry.  At  three  o'clock,  the 
Fort  opened  fire  with  its  twelve-centimetre  guns  over 
the  Ans  aviation  base,  where  our  reconnaissances 
had  signalled  enemy  batteries  and  a  movement  of 
troops. 

August  Qth.  I  have  been  to  Liege,  where  I  heard 
that  the  Germans  were  bringing  heavy  artillery  in 
order  to  attack  the  Forts.  I  told  the  General,  and 
he  ordered  me  to  watch  the  movements  and  the  pas- 
sage of  this  artillery.  He  also  gave  me  the  mission 
of  examining  whether  the  Nasproue  tunnel  near 
Dolhain  were  practicable.  I  discovered  that  the 
line,  which  we  had  destroyed,  had  been  repaired  by 
the  Germans,  as  they  had  no  other  way  for  their 
"  420"  cannons.  During  the  afternoon,  the  Fort  fired 
on  various  enemy  batteries.  We  observed  that  a 
Taube  had  come  down  on  the  Ans  aviation  base 
and  we  fired  on  it  violently  with  shrapnels.  We  also 
took  a  patrol  of  Uhlans  prisoners  on  the  Tongres 
road. 


Loncin  Fort  55 

In  the  night,  we  bombarded  a  mass  of  troops  quar- 
tered in  the  direction  of  Awans. 

Aiigust  loth.  The  enemy  bombarded  with  about 
thirty  shells  of  light  calibre,  which  caused  no  further 
damage  than  to  chip  one  of  our  chimneys.  The  Fort 
replied  on  the  enemy's  batteries  near  Ans.  I  was 
sent  to  discover  the  movements  of  the  troops  and 
returned  with  important  information.  Among  other 
things  I  had  been  informed  of  the  installation  of  a 
post  of  observation  by  the  Germans,  in  the  steeple  of 
the  church  on  the  Ans  plateau.  We  fired  on  this 
steeple  and  brought  down  the  tower,  thus  rendering 
it  impossible  for  observation  purposes. 

August  nth.  Calm.  Reconnaissances  in  all  direc- 
tions by  motor-car. 

August  I2th.  Morning,  terrific  and  rapid  bom- 
barding by  the  Germans.  We  replied  each  time  with 
great  energy  and  with  very  exact  aim.  Unfortunately, 
the  cupola  of  one  of  our  twelve-centimetres  was  soon 
injured,  but,  during  a  lull,  we  managed  to  repair  it. 

The  entrance  to  the  Fort  was  also  hit.  We  cap- 
tured four  more  Uhlans.  During  the  night,  reciprocal 
bombarding. 

August  ijth.  We  noted  that  the  heavy  German 
Artillery  had  commenced  action.  A  violent  firing 
from  guns  of  150  millimetres  injured  two  of  our 
cupolas. 

August  14th.  At  three  in  the  morning,  we  were 
bombarded  by  Howitzers  of  280  and  305mm.  The  Fort 
shook  to  its  foundations,  an  iron  whirlwind  broke 
loose  in  perfect  avalanches  over  the  exterior  surface, 
and  the  gusts  continued,  every  other  two  minutes, 
for  some  hours.  After  each  shock,  fragments  of 
cracked  and   powdered   cement   fell   on   oiir  heads. 


56  Brave  Belgians 

A  grey  dust,  mingled  with  thousands  of  glass  splin- 
ters from  the  window-panes,  crackled  under  our  feet, 
parching  and  irritating  our  throats  and  nostrils.  The 
Fort  was  gradually  crumbling.  A  305  shell  entered 
the  Infirmar3%  killing  and  wounding  several  soldiers. 
At  eleven  o'clock,  the  clothing  stores  met  with  the 
same  fate  and,  one  after  another,  various  buildings 
were  destroyed,  also  the  electric  material,  the  venti- 
lators, and  the  draw-bridge  at  the  entrance  of  the 
Fort. 

At  about  three  or  four  in  the  afternoon,  a  truce- 
bearer  asked  to  be  allowed  to  speak  to  the  Commander 
and  demanded  the  siirrender  of  the  Fort. 

"We  prefer  dying  to  surrendering,"  answered  Cap- 
tain Naessens.  It  was  a  proud  answer  and  it  ex- 
pressed the  general  feeling.  Towards  evening,  the 
firing  slackened  and  everyone  could  rest.  During 
the  night,  a  Staff  officer  slipped  out,  taking  away 
with  him  the  various  valuable  papers  belonging  to 
the  position. 

August  i^th.  What  a  terrible  day!  From  five 
in  the  morning,  the  bombarding  has  been  continual, 
coming  in  gusts.  Four  crashes,  one  after  another, 
and  then  a  whizzing,  a  fall,  and  explosions  in  the 
cement.  The  shells  penetrated  to  a  depth  of  half  a 
yard,  digging  out  holes  of  four  yards  square.  To- 
wards eight  o'clock  the  soldiers'  rooms  were  wrecked, 
their  beds  overturned,  and  windows,  fastened  with 
iron  bars  eighteen  centimetres  thick,  were  broken; 
the  Infirmary,  the  operating  room,  the  kitchen,  re- 
fectory, and  the  General's  room  were  swept  away. 
Everything  was  destroyed,  not  a  single  place  re- 
mained which  could  serve  as  a  shelter.  The  Fort  is 
now  in  ruins  from  top  to  bottom,  and  we  are  in 


Loncin  Fort  57 

complete  darkness  and  scarcely  able  to  breathe,  on 
account  of  the  poisonous  and  noxious  gases,  as  not  a 
single  ventilator  works.  Only  two  cupolls  remain 
with  which  we  can  reply  to  the  enemy's  terrible 
avalanche.  We  are  not  continuing,  though,  as  we 
do  not  know  where  the  enemy's  batteries  are 
and  they  are  certainly  beyond  our  reach.  During 
a  lull,  this  morning,  another  truce-bearer  paid  us  a 
visit.  He  was  not  escorted  and  carried  a  white  flag. 
The  sentinel  ordered  him  to  halt  and  to  return,  so 
that  he  should  not  be  able  to  communicate  any  infor- 
mation with  regard  to  the  result  of  the  adverse  firing. 
On  the  Boche's  refusal  to  obey,  the  sentinel  ordered 
him  a  second  time  to  halt  and,  as  the  second  time  he 
refused  to  obey,  he  was  shot  down.  He  had  time  to 
signal  with  his  white  flag  before  falling  to  the  ground 
dead.  We  believe,  and  it  is  also  the  opinion  of  our 
officers,  that  this  supposed  truce-bearer  came  treach- 
erously to  take  his  bearings  for  the  firing  of  the 
four  hundred  and  twenty  guns,  and  that  he  sacrificed 
his  life  for  the  sake  of  giving  the  exact  spot  to  the 
Artillery.  Immediately  after  his  death,  we  had  to 
endure  a  very  exact  and  continued  bombardment. 
It  was  on  this  day,  August  15th,  that  the  Germans 
employed  their  famous  "420"  Howitzers. 

From  time  to  time,  we  saw  the  General  and  the 
officers  walking  about  in  the  open  on  the  fortification 
glacis,  observing  the  enemy,  with  the  most  admirable 
sang-froid  and  an  utter  disregard  for  danger.  The 
most  miraculous  and  incomprehensible  thing  was  that 
not  one  of  them  was  injured  by  the  explosions  on  every 
side  of  them. 

At  5.20  in  the  afternoon,  General  Leman,  Captain 
Naessens,  Lieutenant   Modard,  their  two   Sub-Lieu- 


58  Brave  Belgians 

tenants,  several  other  sub-officers  and  I  were  in  the 
shooting  gallery,  and,  although  the  Fort  was  practi- 
cally destroyed,  our  brave,  valorous  chiefs  continued 
giving  orders.  The  others  were  sitting  down  in  the 
central  passage  awaiting  events.  Suddenly  we  heard 
the  protracted  whizzing  sound  of  a  big  projectile. 
"Here's  another!"  said  one  of  the  men  in  the  passage. 
A  huge  burst  of  flame  and  then  a  formidable  shock 
which  flung  us  all  against  the  wall  and  then — nothing 
but  silence! 

Quartermaster  Krantz's  diary  stopped  here.  He 
had  fainted  and  did  not  come  to  himself  until  he  was 
in  the  hospital. 

Dr.  Courtin,  who  had  the  good  luck  to  come  out 
of  the  explosion  uninjured,  soon  regained  his  presence 
of  mind. 

"I  found  myself  lying  on  the  ground,"  he  said, 
"after  a  faint.  It  was  very  difficult  to  breathe, 
but  fortunately  a  little  air  from  a  broken  window 
reached  me.  I  managed  to  get  up  and  found  that 
Dr.  Maloens  was  lying  at  my  side.  His  face  was 
bleeding  and  I  gave  him  a  few  drops  of  brandy. 
Nearly  all  the  men  had  instinctively  protected  their 
eyes.  All  of  them  remembered  their  oath  and  re- 
fused to  surrender.  A  remarkable  example  of  heroism 
was  given  us  by  a  young  soldier  who  was  at  the  end 
of  a  passage.  He  was  black  with  powder,  his  clothes 
were  in  rags  and  he  had  two  holes  covered  with  blood 
in  place  of  pupils  to  his  eyes.  He  continued  shooting, 
nevertheless,  until  he  had  used  his  last  cartridge. 
On  approaching  him,  we  discovered  that  one  of  his 
feet  was  wedged  between  two  blocks  of  stone  and  it 
had  to  be  amputated  so  that  he  could  be  released. 


Loncin  Fort  59 

"In  the  meantime,  a  few  men  who  had  escaped 
injuries  managed  to  get  out  through  the  window,  by- 
taking  down  the  bars.  As  I  knew  the  passage,  I 
moved  slowly  forwards  in  the  darkness  and  found  all 
the  windows  blocked.  Suddenly,  I  saw  a  ray  of 
light  filtering  through  some  pieces  of  cement  which 
had  fallen.  By  widening  the  aperture,  I  managed 
to  get  out.  All  round  the  Fort,  our  poor  men  were 
hurrying  along  in  flames,  half  wild  with  pain.  Others, 
on  their  knees,  were  reciting  prayers.  It  was  a  fright- 
ful sight!" 

In  the  evening,  a  German  Colonel  went  to  the  Li6ge 
Military  Hospital  to  say  that  a  terrible  explosion  had 
destroyed  the  Loncin  Fort.  Two  or  three  doctors, 
one  of  whom  was  Dr.  Defalle,  started  immediately 
to  this  Fort.  "We  met  some  of  the  wounded,"  he 
told  me,  "coming  along  the  Thier  d'Ans  road  and, 
as  we  went  along,  we  kept  meeting  motor-cars 
and  pedestrians.  In  the  villages,  nearly  all  the  in- 
habitants were  at  their  doors,  anxiously  looking  out. 
At  Ans  plateau,  where  the  church  steeple  had  been 
razed  to  the  ground,  we  met  a  cart  in  which  General 
Leman  was  lying.  The  cart  was  drawn  by  two  horses 
and  the  General  was  accompanied  by  Staff  Deputy 
Commander  Collart  and  by  a  German  officer.  The 
General,  who  had  just  been  taken  from  the  ruins 
through  a  hole  in  the  escarpment,  was  still  half  suf- 
focated, and  his  face  was  blue.  He  had  no  wound 
visible  though,  and  he  was  perfectly  conscious.^ 
On  reaching  the  Fort,  I  found  it  was  surrounded  by 
numerous  enemy  troops  of  different  arms  and  parti- 

'  This  was  confirmed  by  a  letter  from  Captain  Commander 
Hauteclerc  to  Mile.  Leman,  the  General's  daughter. 


6o  Brave  Belgians 

ctilarly  by  the  Engineers.  Some  of  the  soldiers  were 
waving  a  large  Red  Cross  flag,  in  order  to  stop  the 
firing  from  the  Hollogne  Fort.  The  explosion  had 
chiefly  affected  the  south-east  part  and  the  moats 
there  were  filled  with  the  debris.  The  central  masonry 
was  destroj'ed  and  encumbered  with  blocks  of  cement. 
The  cupola  was  knocked  down.  There  was  very 
little  smoke,  but,  from  time  to  time,  detonations, 
caused  by  the  cartridge  stores  exploding  from  the 
heat. 

"From  these  ruins,  could  be  heard  the  most  un- 
earthly groans  and  cries.  The  poor,  suffering  men, 
who  were  burning  there,  were  begging  us  to  help 
them.  Blocks  of  stone  or  cement  had  to  be  raised 
and  sometimes  we  were  obliged  to  saw  off  a  limb, 
in  order  to  release  these  brave  men.  They  were 
partly  carbonised,  quite  black,  and  almost  naked, 
when  we  succeeded  in  transporting  them  to  a  meadow 
near.  From  there  they  were  taken  to  the  town. 
In  the  counterscarp,  separated  by  the  moat,  were 
some  flanking  coffers.  The  occupants  of  these  had 
not  been  able  to  get  back  to  the  central  construc- 
tion, as  the  subterranean  passage  was  obstructed. 
After  some  hours  of  labour,  we  were  able  to  push 
in  the  ventilation  gratings  and  to  get  the  half  suffocated 
men  out. 

"The  Loncin  inhabit  ants,  overwhelmed  with  anguish, 
watched  our  terrible  work.  The  recruiting  had  been 
local  and  they  all  dreaded  lest  they  should  recognise 
a  member  of  their  own  family  in  these  poor  tumefied, 
charred  bodies,  with  burnt  hair,  which  were  dragged 
from  under  the  debris.  They  helped  the  doctors  in 
bandaging  and  in  administering  the  morphia  for 
attenuating  the  traimiatic  shock.     They     gave  the 


Loncin  Fort  6i 

patients  soothing  drinks  and  installed  them  in  their 
houses.  Nearly  every  house  had  its  wounded  men, 
who  were  sent  as  soon  as  possible  to  Lidge,  either 
to  the  Military  Hospital,  the  ambulances  of  the 
Daughters  of  the  Cross  and  of  the  Jesuits,  or  to  the 
one  in  the  Rue  des  Rivageois. 

"The  Germans  seemed  surprised  at  the  immensity 
of  the  catastrophe.  Their  officers,  particularly  those 
belonging  to  the  Engineers,  endeavoured  to  ease  the 
suffering  of  the  victims.  When  a  few  shots  were  fired, 
though,  from  the  Waroux  wood,  they  changed  their 
attitude,  blamed  the  Belgians,  and  talked  of  reprisals. 
We  doctors  reminded  them  that  our  lives  were  as 
much  in  danger  as  theirs,  and  that  that  fact  did 
not  prevent  us  from  doing  our  duty.  The  Boches 
were  somewhat  confused  and  were  quiet  after  this. 
Towards  ten  o'clock  at  night  all  the  wounded  were 
removed." 

"I  was  at  the  St.  Laurent  Hospital,"  said  Dr. 
Roskam,  "when  the  wounded  were  brought  in,  to- 
wards nine  in  the  evening.  The  sight  of  these  poor 
men,  with  frizzled  hair,  black  hands  and  faces,  and 
scorched  clothes,  was  frightful.  The  Germans  took 
them  for  Senegalese.  In  the  operating-room,  scenes 
took  place  which  filled  us  with  horror.  On  taking 
off  their  clothes,  shreds  of  flesh  were  torn  off,  legs  and 
arms  separated  from  the  body,  and  horrible  wounds 
and  burns  of  all  sorts  appeared.  There  was  a  fright- 
ful odour  of  carbonised  flesh.  What  made  this  scene 
more  poignant  still,  was  the  courage,  the  stoicism  of 
all  these  men  who  did  not  complain. 

"They  had  scarcely  come  to  themselves  again  after 
their  dizziness,  from  which  they  were  roused  by  the 


62  Brave  Belgians 

suffering  caused  by  the  washing  of  their  wounds  with 
green  soap,  when  they  asked  after  their  Commander 
and  their  Lieutenant.  Man}'  of  them  had  tears  in 
their  eyes  when  they  heard  that  their  chiefs  were  saved 
and  they  asked  to  be  carried  into  the  ward  where 
Naessens  and  Modard  were  lying,  seriously  wounded. 
The  two  officers  could  scarcely  recognise  their  men, 
thanks  to  powder,  bandages,  scars,  and  swollen 
features.  They  encouraged  and  congratulated  them 
nevertheless,  and  in  all  justice.  The  whole  of  the 
time  these  men  were  in  hospital,  they  were  admirable. 
Horribly  burnt,  some  of  them  blind,  some  with  the 
sight  of  one  eye  gone,  in  many  cases  the  drum  of  the 
ear  perforated  and  the  patient  suffering  from  otitis, 
they  endured  everything  with  resignation,  never 
complaining,  grumbling,  or  protesting  in  any  way. 
They  were  veritable  heroes.  When  the  first  to 
recover  started  for  Germany,  Naessens  and  Modard, 
who  had  never  intended  to  leave  their  soldiers  and 
who  were  obliged  to  stay  longer  in  Liege,  in  order  to 
finish  their  cure,  were  carried  to  the  court-yard  by 
the  men-nurses,  in  order  to  say  a  last  farewell  to 
the  brave  men  who  adored  them!" 


CHAPTER  Vin 

Haelen 

(August  12,  1914) 

By  Colonel  Baltia,  Chief  of  Staff  of  the  ist  Cavalry 
Division 

After  defending  Lidge,  the  3rd  Division  rejoined  the  Belgian 
Army,  which  had  taken  up  its  position  on  the  Gette.  The  ist, 
3rd,  and  5th  Divisions  were  placed  in  the  first  line;  the  2nd  and 
6th  in  the  second  Hne,  whilst  the  4th  defended  Namur.  These 
forces  were  covered  by  the  Cavalry  Division  which  was  first  placed 
at  Waremme.  It  fell  back  on  St.  Trond  and  then  on  the  left  of 
the  army,  thus  lengthening  the  line  from  Tirlemont  to  near  Diest. 

On  the  I2th  of  August,  the  enemy  Cavalry  endeavoured  to  force 
the  passage  of  the  Gette  at  Haelen.  Against  six  regiments  of  the 
2nd  and  4th  Divisions  of  German  Cavalry,  supported  by  the  7th 
and  9th  Battalions  of  Chasseurs  and  by  three  batteries,  that  is 
4000  horsemen,  2000  foot-soldiers,  and  18  cannons,  the  Belgian 
Cavalry  opposed  victoriously  2400  horsemen,  410  Cyclists  and  12 
cannons. 

(See  Army  Commandment  Report.) 

For  several  days,  detachments  of  the  enemy  Cavalry 
had  made  daring  attempts  at  all  the  points  of  our  line 
of  defence  along  the  Gette,  but  had  found  it  well 
guarded  everywhere. 

On  August  1 2th,  our  intrepid  reconnaissances, 
consisting  of  officers  of  the  Guides  and  Lancers,  in- 

63 


64  Brave  Belgians 

formed  us  that  the  enemy  had  been  reinforced  every- 
where, and  we  had  the  distinct  impression  that  an 
effort  to  pierce  our  line  would  be  made  at  Haelen. 
We  were  on  our  guard  and  if  the  Division  of  German 
Cavalry  hoped  to  pass  there,  it  would  meet  the  princi- 
pal mass  of  the  Cavalry  Division  of  the  Belgian  Army. 
The  enemy  imagined  that  we  were  scattered  all  along 
the  river,  as  we  had  been  the  preceding  days,  from 
Diest  to  Drieslinter,  but  it  did  not  know  that,  by  a 
skilful  manoeuvre.  Lieutenant  General  de  Witte,  only 
leaving  the  minimum  of  our  forces  at  the  secondary 
points  of  the  passage  of  the  river,  had  constituted 
an  important  reserve,  which  was  in  readiness  to  receive 
the  enemy. 

Whilst  this  mass  was  forming,  General  de  Witte  gave 
into  the  hands  of  the  Colonel  of  the  5th  Lancers  the 
standard  which  this  newly-formed  regiment  had  just 
received.  On  that  very  day,  this  valiant  troop  won 
the  honour  of  having  "Haelen"  inscribed  on  the  im- 
maculate silk  of  that  standard. 

The  Battle  Ground 

The  sun,  which  on  rising  had  appeared  sulky,  now 
burst  forth  in  all  its  splendour,  lighting  up  the  farms 
and  the  white  farm-houses  scattered  along  the  road 
which  unites  Loxbergen  and  Haelen  and  winds  be- 
tween fertile  fields,  which  were  still  partially  covered 
with  their  rich  harvests  of  com  and  oats.  The 
Division  had  made  its  headquarters  on  the  border  of 
Loxbergen,  from  which  spot  there  is  an  extensive 
view.  To  the  left  is  a  narrow  valley  encircled  with 
poplars  and  willows.  Here  and  there  are  to  be  seen 
the  red  roofs  of  houses.     On  the  brow  of  the  hill 


Haelen  65 

dominating  the  valley,  a  Belgian  battery  was  installed. 
The  bells  of  the  Church  steeples  of  Diest  rang  out 
clearly  and  solemnly.  In  the  distance  could  be  seen 
the  outline  of  the  little,  low-built  church  of  Haelen. 
This  little  stragi^^ling  town,  almost  unknown  hitherto, 
was  destined  to  be  the  witness  of  the  violent,  brutal 
effort  of  the  German  Cavalry  to  dislodge  the  Belgian 
Cavalry  and  open  a  way  for  itself  into  the  heart  of  the 
country,  after  reaching  the  flank  of  the  Belgian  Army 
covered  by  the  Cavalry  Division.  The  Germans 
counted  on  having  their  revenge  this  time  for  all  the 
successes  that  the  Belgian  Division  had  won  during 
the  first  eight  days  of  the  campaign.  They  expected 
to  avenge  themselves  on  the  Belgians,  who  had  swept 
away  their  reconnaissances,  their  patrols,  their  posts  of 
liaison  and  their  centres  of  information  and  entirely 
disorganised  their  clever  but  fragile  look-out  system. 

The  First  Firing 

Presently,  the  lights  of  an  incendiary  fire  were  to  be 
seen.  It  was  the  signal  given  by  the  German  recon- 
naissances to  let  their  army  know  that  we  had  baffled 
their  plans. 

Our  brave  Cyclist-Carabineers  were  already  at 
work,  valiantly  defending  the  position  they  occupied. 
With  the  help  of  the  Cyclist  Pioneer  Pontonniers,  they 
had  made  excavations,  deepened  the  ditches,  arranged 
hedges  and  fences,  barricaded  the  roads  and  paths, 
installed  their  machine-guns  in  favourable  positions, 
and  were  now  determined  to  inflict  a  severe  punish- 
ment on  the  invaders. 

As  soon  as  the  first  squadrons  of  Dragoons  and 
Hussars  appeared,  the  firing  broke  loose.     The  enemy 


66  Brave  Belgians 

hesitated  a  moment  and  then,  urged  on  by  their 
chiefs,  took  fresh  courage  and  fired  on  our  Httle  Cyclists 
with  their  rifles,  machine-guns,  and  cannons.  The 
cowardly  cads  who  led,  or  rather  pushed  them  on, 
had  protected  themselves  by  placing  unoffensive 
inhabitants  of  the  villages  whom  they  had  htmted 
up,  in  front  of  them. 

Our  riflemen,  well  hidden,  took  aim  calmly,  and  at 
every  shot,  a  pointed  helmet,  a  colbak  or  a  schapska 
rolled  on  the  ground  and  a  man,  dressed  in  grey  uni- 
form, fell  among  the  harvest.  Our  "diables  noirs" 
fell  back,  step  by  step,  defending  every  furrow  of 
ground  and  every  bush. 

German  Cavalry  Charges 

'  Suddenly,  the  avalanche  of  German  squadrons 
appeared  and,  in  a  wild  gallop,  rushed  on  the  foot- 
soldiers,  who  sustained  the  shock  without  flinching, 
replying  with  their  guns  and  bayonets. 

The  squadrons,  excited  by  their  gallop,  continued 
their  way  until  they  came  to  the  Belgian  Lancers,  who 
had  alighted  behind  the  Cyclists  and  who  now  re- 
ceived the  charge  with  a  running  fire  at  short  distance. 

The  gallop  of  these  yelling,  clanging  masses  shook 
the  very  ground,  and  the  long,  piercing  lances  looked 
as  though  they  must  overturn  everything  in  their  way, 
but  at  the  first  discharge  of  our  Lancers'  carbines, 
aided  effectually  by  the  four  machine-guns  manipu- 
lated calmly  by  Lieutenant  Scouvemont  and  Lieuten- 
ant Ouverleaux,  and  by  the  firing  of  three  squadrons 
of  the  1st  Guides,  stationed  to  the  right  of  the  battle- 
field, the  mass  whirled  round  and  was  scattered.  The 
first  squadrons  were  followed  by  others.      The  second 


Haelen  67 

charge  was  received  in  the  same  way  as  the  first  one, 
and  the  third  one  like  the  second.  Seven  charges  one 
after  the  other  were  broken  up. 

The  moment  was  a  tragic  one.  A  quantity  of  horses 
was  tearing  wildly  about,  mad  with  terror  and  pain, 
and  red  with  blood.  Some  of  them  came  rushing 
against  the  horses  of  our  Lancers.  The  panic  spread 
among  these,  and,  in  a  moment,  an  immense  troop  of 
horses  was  tearing  about  the  plains  amidst  the  firing 
of  guns  and  the  dry  bursting  of  the  shrapnels.  Our 
soldiers,  unmoved,  reloaded  their  guns  and  prepared 
to  repulse  any  further  attacks,  scarcely  stopping  to 
give  a  pitying  glance  at  the  dead  bodies  of  friends  and 
enemies  around  them,  or  at  the  wounded,  who  were 
groaning  in  pain. 

Fresh  Attacks  of  the  Enemy 

Those  in  command  of  the  German  Cavalry,  recognis- 
ing the  inefficacy  of  their  charges,  sent  no  more  horses, 
but  their  horsemen  on  foot,  with  carbines,  supported 
by  their  machine-guns. 

These  men  advanced  over  the  plain,  creeping  in 
amongst  the  corn,  crouching  down  in  every  shelter 
offered  by  the  ground,  and  hiding  behind  the  sheaves 
to  escape  the  terrible  fire  of  our  courageous  and  skilful 
men. 

Six  regiments  of  Dragoons,  Hussars,  and  Cuirassiers 
were  already  engaged  and  were  advancing  with  great 
difficulty,  when  the  help  of  two  Battalions  of  Chasseurs 
was  sent  to  them. 

Our  Artillery  then  entered  into  action.  The  first 
Horse  battery,  manipulated  by  an  energetic  officer 
quite  sure  of  himself,  sent  his  shells  and  shrapnels 


68  Brave  Belgians 

with  straight  aim  on  to  the  Cavalry  and  foot-soldiers 
covering  the  plain  and,  at  the  same  time,  covered 
with  his  destructive  shells  the  Haelen  bridge  and  the 
village,  in  which  the  fresh  Cavalry  regiments  were 
massed  together  which  had  come  to  reinforce  and 
support  their  comrades.  Under  the  pressure  of  super- 
ior numbers,  our  Cavalry  had  hard  work  to  hold  out, 
but  it  did  not  budge  an  inch  whilst  giving  our  Infantry 
time  to  arrive. 

Arrival  of  our  First  Reinforcements 

It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  our  first 
help  appeared:  three  Battalions  of  the  4th  Regiment 
and  two  of  the  24th,  accompanied  by  a  group  of  Ar- 
tillery. These  troops  had  started  from  Hauthem- 
St.  IMarguerite  at  10.30.  Part  of  the  Infantry  was 
sent  to  Velpen,  to  reach  Haelen  from  there,  and  the 
other  part  was  sent,  as  a  reinforcement  to  the  de- 
fenders of  the  Yserbeck  Farm. 

The  Artillery  supported  these  two  attacks,  but 
unfortunately,  of  the  two  batteries  which  took  posi- 
tion at  the  Loxbergen  Mill,  only  one  could  open  fire 
without  being  immediately  counter-attacked  by  the 
German  Artillery,  which  was  in  position  to  the  north 
of  Velpen. 

Whilst  the  Infantry  was  on  its  way  to  Velpen  and 
Yserbeck  Farm,  the  ist  Cavalry  Brigade  took  to  horse 
and  went  in  the  direction  of  the  left  wing  of  the 
battle-field. 

The  2nd  Brigade,  which  had  been  in  action  for 
seven  long  hours,  now  went  in  search  of  its  horses. 

At  7  o'clock,  Yserbeck  Farm,  or  rather  the  smoking 
ruins   of  this   farm,    were  retaken  by  the  Leconte 


Haelen  69 

Battalion,  and  Velpen  was  reconquered  by  the  Rade- 
maekers  Battalion. 

All  around  us  were  horses  with  broken  limbs,  blood 
streaming  from  their  nostrils  and  wounded  sides. 
Some  of  them  were  dying  in  the  ditches  by  the  road- 
side, or  in  the  fields.  Others  were  galloping  wildly 
about,  their  saddles  swinging  between  their  legs. 

Then  began  the  pitiful  procession  of  the  wounded, 
who,  with  haggard  faces,  were  dragging  themselves 
with  difficulty  towards  the  rear.  Some  of  them  went 
along,  bent  nearly  double,  walking  in  the  ditches. 
Others  were  supported  by  the  ambulance  men,  or 
by  priests  of  the  ambulance  contingent.  Some,  too, 
were  carried  on  stretchers,  or  even  in  their  coats  held 
at  the  four  corners. 

Standing  up,  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  disdainful 
of  the  destructive  shells  which  struck  horses  quite 
near  them,  or  of  the  shrapnels  which  hit  the  horses 
they  were  leading,  or  of  the  bullets  which  whizzed 
through  the  branches.  General  de  Witte  and  his  Staff 
watched  the  various  phases  of  the  struggle,  giving 
to  the  troops  a  fine  example  of  fearlessness  in  the  midst 
of  danger.  Debris  of  all  kinds  strewed  the  ground, 
amniunition  waggons  came  galloping  along  the  road, 
bringing  fresh  supplies,  whilst  along  the  whole  front, 
fires  lighted  by  the  shells  sent  up  their  sinister  light 
and  bitter  smoke  towards  the  clear  sky  above. 

Victory  I 

The  battle  seemed  still  undecided  when  the  sun 
was  sinking  in  the  horizon,  but  just  then,  our  artillery 
men  noticed  a  retreating  movement  of  the  enemy's 
line,  which,  driven  by  our  Infantry,  was  beginning  to 


70  Brave  Belgians 

fall  back  towards  the  bridge  and  village  of  Haelen. 
Our  men  immediately  opened  fire,  with  all  their 
cannons,  in  the  direction  of  the  passage  along  which 
the  fugitives  were  pouring.  The  latter,  in  spite  of  the 
efforts  and  threats  of  their  officers,  drew  away  with 
them  the  Cavalry  regiments  that  had  just  come  to 
their  rescue.  The  retreat,  as  night  came  on,  degener- 
ated into  a  wild  helter-skelter,  which  went  on  as  far 
as  Hasselt  and  Herck-St.  Lambert,  where  the  defeated 
troops  fortified  themselves  hastily,  in  order  to  be  able 
to  oppose  an  eventual  pursuit. 

The  dismal  croaking  of  the  crows  could  now  be 
heard  in  the  night  which  was  already  almost  dark. 
The  galloping  of  the  frightened  horses,  spurred  on 
cruelly  by  their  riders,  hammered  on  the  pavement. 
Under  the  ceaseless  rain  of  projectiles  from  the  Belgian 
guns,  the  ten  German  regiments,  magnificent  as  they 
had  been  in  the  morning,  formed  now  only  a  disorderly 
mob  trampling  on  the  foot-soldiers,  the  dead,  and  the 
wounded,  and  abandoning  their  officers  and  even 
their  Generals.  At  the  other  extremity  of  the  battle- 
field, could  be  heard  the  songs  of  victory  of  the  Belgian 
troops,  triumphing  in  their  first  feat  of  arms. 

The  Night  after  the  Combat 

Gradually,  the  battle-field  became  silent,  a  veil  of 
darkness,  of  mourning,  and  of  terror  covered  this 
ground,  where  so  many  young  men,  who  only  the  day 
before  were  so  happy  to  live,  were  now  sleeping  their 
last  sleep,  or  moaning  in  pain,  abandoned  to  their  fate. 

The  silence  of  night,  which  followed  the  hell-like 
noise  of  the  day  before,  seemed  more  profound  than 
ever.     The  stars,  which  were  already  twinkling,  and 


Haelen  71 

the  moon,  shining  in  all  its  brilliancy,  were  a  startling 
contrast  to  the  horrors  before  our  eyes.  Our  thoughts 
became  clearer  as  we  walked  slowly  along  in  the 
direction  of  our  quarters.  The  tension  of  our  nerves 
was  at  last  relaxed.  Many  of  us  had  not  found  our 
horses  again.  They  had  disappeared,  and  some  of 
them  had  been  killed  in  the  tumult.  This  walk  in  the 
darkness  of  night  gradually  soothed  our  minds,  and 
the  memories  of  all  that  had  happened  became  clearer. 

Heroes.     Courageous  Deeds  of  our  Soldiers  and  Officers 

We  thought  of  that  cyclist,  brave  Royer,  belonging 
to  the  Cavalry  Division  of  the  Staff.  He  had  gone 
out  resolutely,  in  the  very  midst  of  the  fight,  to  bring 
in  an  officer.  Lieutenant  Waepenaere,  who  had  been 
wounded  in  the  thigh  when  he  was  leading  out  some 
timid  foot-soldiers  to  the  fray,  young  men  who  had  not 
been  under  fire  before.  This  brave  soldier  went  back 
a  second  time  into  the  furnace  to  get  a  machine-gun 
that  had  been  abandoned  and  that  he  had  to  bring 
back  on  a  cart.  He  then  returned  a  third  time  to  shoot 
two  German  cavalry  men  with  his  revolver.  He  had 
seen  them  hiding  behind  the  sheaves  and  they  had 
fired  on  him  when  he  was  bringing  back  his  Lieu- 
tenant, and  again  when  he  was  returning  with  the 
machine-gun.  He  brought  their  two  helmets  with 
him  on  his  last  expedition. 

This  intrepid  young  man  was  from  Liege  and  he 
performed  these  three  courageous  acts  in  the  most 
natural  manner  possible,  convinced  that  he  had  merely 
done  his  duty  as  a  soldier.  He  was  very  much  sur- 
prised when  he  was  appointed  Corporal  for  his  fine 
conduct.     Later  on,  he  was  always  ready,  day  or  night, 


72  Brave  Belgians 

for  the  most  dangerous  expeditions.  His  career 
ended  gloriously,  for  he  was  killed  in  an  army  motor- 
car expedition,  during  the  Pellenberg  fight. 

We  thought,  too,  of  that  young  soldier  who  had  been 
horribly  wounded  and  whose  arm  was  all  slashed. 
With  his  valid  arm,  he  held  out  a  piece  of  his  gun 
to  his  General,  crying  out:  "I  still  have  my  gun!" 
Then,  too,  there  was  that  other  one  who  had  to  be 
helped  along  by  two  of  the  ambulance  men,  but  who 
insisted  on  carrying  his  trophy,  which  was  a  German 
lance. 

We  thought,  too,  of  those  other  courageous  ones: 
Thiery  and  Prince  Baudouin  de  Ligne.  They  had 
both  enlisted  as  motor-car  volunteers  for  as  long  as 
the  war  should  last.i  i  They  obtained  permission  to 
go  to  the  firing  lines  with  the  foot-soldiers,  whom  they 
stimulated  by  their  example.  They  had  made  a 
trench,  six  of  them  together,  had  occupied  it  and,  for 
an  hour,  had  held  out  against  superior  forces,  whilst 
endeavouring  to  take  a  machine-gun. 

Our  thoughts  went  out  to  many,  many  heroes,  whose 
brave  deeds  we  cannot  relate  here.  Among  them  were 
Major  Bourgouis  and  Major  Stacquet;  Commanders 
Demaret,  Vandamme,  and  Wacquez;  Captains  Lequ- 
eux,  Panquin,  Van  Vlierberghen ;  Lieutenant  Stoops 
and  Sub-Lieutenant  Marr^e,  who  were  killed,  and 
Major  Rademaekers,  Commander  Dujardin,  Lieuten- 
ants Mortier,  M.  Van  Damme,  A.  Desmet,  Ch.  Albert 
and  Chevalier  de  Waepenaere,  all  of  whom  were 
wounded. 

Our  Belgian  race  and  our  corps  of  officers  gave  proof, 
during  that  first  shock,  from  the  first  moment  of  their 
baptism  of  fire,  of  all  the  bravery  of  their  cool  energy 
and  of  their  unflinching  tenacity. 


Haelcn  73 

After  the   Victory 

It  was  broad  daylight,  the  following  morning,  when 
we  moved  onwards  towards  Haelen.  There  was 
intense  activity  at  Loxbergen;  motor-cars  and  ambu- 
lances were  taking  their  loads  of  wounded  men  to  the 
Infirmary  that  had  been  installed  in  the  school.  They 
were  laid  there,  side  by  side,  on  straw  that  was  soon 
stained  with  blood.  The  atmosphere  was  impreg- 
nated with  the  odour  of  disinfectants.  Sisters  of 
Mercy,  priests,  doctors,  and  ambulance  men  lavished 
every  care  on  them,  seeking  to  alleviate  their  sufferings, 
to  console  them,  to  bring  a  gleam  to  their  dim  eyes 
by  the  mention  of  their  absent  families,  of  their  homes, 
of  their  wives  and  children. 

The  most  hardened  heart  would  have  given  way  at 
the  sight  of  those  poor  naked  bodies,  writhing  with 
pain,  of  those  mutilated  limbs,  of  those  twisted  arms, 
and  of  those  beseeching  looks,  there,  in  the  midst  of  all 
the  rags  and  bandages,  uniforms,  boots,  and  weapons 
flung  in  a  heap  in  the  corner,  or  on  the  school  desks, 
where  only  a  few  days  before,  happy  Belgian  children 
were  learning  to  read  and  to  love  their  country. 

The  Battle-Field 

On  leaving  that  den  of  pain  and  suffering,  we  felt  a 
sort  of  relief  in  the  open  air,  but  this  was  not  of  long 
dtu-ation,  as  the  sight  of  the  battle-field  filled  us  once 
more  with  anguish. 

In  front  of  the  church  of  this  little  village,  and 
already  covered  with  dust,  dead  horses  were  lying, 
overturned  carriages,  trampled  straw,  remains  of  food, 
and  of  fires,  and  all  the  vile  chaos  that  an  army  leaves 
behind  it. 


74  Brave  Belgians 

On  the  outskirts  of  the  village,  on  the  Haelen  road 
we  saw  the  first  dead  bodies  of  Germans,  with  their 
faces  tumefied  and  their  limbs  rigid.  They  were  lying 
in  the  most  extraordinary  positions.  A  Cuirassier 
was  still  holding  on  to  a  charger  supplied  with  am- 
munition; farther  on  a  Dragoon  was  lying  face  down- 
wards, his  leg  bent  backwards. 

Presently  we  reached  the  little  farm  which  had  been 
fought  for  all  the  day.  The  house  was  torn  asunder 
by  shells  and  the  barn  reduced  to  ashes.  The  pigs 
were  loose  and  wandering  round  the  ruin. 
[-,  As  we  advanced  towards  Haelen,  the  number  of 
corpses  increased.  At  the  spot  where  the  encounter 
between  the  riflemen  had  taken  place,  an  almost 
continuous  line  of  German  and  Belgian  corpses 
showed  what  desperate  fighting  there  had  been.  An 
officer  of  our  24th  Line  Regiment  and  a  Dragoon 
officer  were  lying  there,  side  by  side.  Which  of  the 
two  had  lived  to  see  the  other  die?  What  drama  was 
hidden  under  the  contact  of  these  two  bodies? 

At  Haelen,  the  drama  was  poignant.  In  most  of 
the  houses  there  were  gaping  holes  and  the  walls  were 
all  knocked  about. 

The  street  was  covered  with  debris  of  all  kinds. 
Hundreds  of  horses  were  lying  with  their  heads  crushed, 
their  bodies  open,  or  their  backs  broken.  A  nauseous 
odour  almost  choked  us. 

The  courageous  inhabitants  had  already  buried 
the  dead  in  huge  graves,  which  they  had  dug  near  the 
village,  and  they  were  now  beginning  to  take  away  the 
dead  bodies  of  the  horses. 

At  the  comer  of  the  street,  a  waggon  with  its  can- 
non had  been  abandoned,  as  the  wheels  were  broken. 
A  little  further  on  was  another  waggon,  containing 


Haelen  75 

ammunition,  which  would  have  to  be  drowned  in  the 
little  river.  In  a  wide  ditch,  was  the  dead  body 
of  a  horse  almost  covering  the  body  of  an  officer 
of  the  Dragoons,  whose  head  alone  was  visible, 
emerging  from  the  stagnant  water. 

On  the  Square,  we  picked  up  the  Belgian  flag,  which 
had  been  floating  at  the  Municipal  Building.  It  had 
been  snatched  down  by  the  Prussians,  torn  and  dragged 
through  the  mud.  We  had  it  put  up  again,  just 
as  it  was,  and  we  saluted  it  with  deep  respect,  little 
thinking  then  that  it  would  soon  be  the  emblem  of  our 
poor  country,  torn,  violated,  and  trampled  under  foot 
by  a  barbarous  soldiery. 

On  our  return,  we  took  the  tragic  path  where  our 
indomitable  Cyclists  had  held  out  so  heroically. 
The  broken  bicycles,  the  dead  bodies  of  our  "diables 
noirs"  and  of  their  adversaries,  proved  their  courage, 
and  the  punishment  they  had  inflicted  on  these  Ger- 
mans, particularly  on  those  of  the  17th  Dragoons, 
that  famous  regiment,  composed  of  the  flower  of  the 
Mecklenburg  nobility. 

A  little  farther  on,  we  met  some  soldiers  carrying  a 
ladder,  on  which  a  sub-officer  of  our  Lancers  was  lying. 
He  had  been  wounded  in  the  knee.  "I  have  spent  a 
terrible  night, "  he  said,  with  a  smile  on  his  lips.  "I 
was  wounded  and  lying  in  a  beet-root  field  by  the  side 
of  a  German  sub-officer.  After  insulting  me,  he  fired 
on  me  three  times  with  his  revolver,  and  lodged  his 
last  ball  in  his  own  head.  He  is  still  there  in  the 
field." 

How  long  this  walk  back  seemed  to  us !  We  would 
willingly  have  closed  our  eyes.  We  could  not  help 
thinking  of  the  mothers,  sisters,  and  families  of  all 
those  we  had  just  seen  there,  men  who  had  died  for 


76  Brave  Belgians 

their  country,  victims  of  a  sanguinary,  brutal,  per- 
jvired  despot.  The  thought  of  these  poor  families 
threw  a  sombre  veil  over  our  pride  in  the  memory  of 
our  first  victory ! 


CHAPTER  IX 
The  Budingen  Combat 

(August    i8,    1914) 

Death  of  Lieutenant  Count  W.  d'Ursel.    By  Colonel  de 

schietere  de  lophem,  commander  of  the 

4TH  Lancers 

The  Combat  of  Budingen  is  an  episode  of  the  forcing  of  the 
Gette  by  the  vanguards  of  General  von  Kluck's  army.  The 
attack  extended  from  Diest  to  Tirlemont  and  was  particularly 
violent  at  Tirlemont  and  at  Hauthem-St.  Marguerite. 

On  the  17th  of  August,  towards  6.30,  in  the  even- 
ing, I  received  orders  to  go  to  Budingen,  with  the  Staff 
of  the  2nd  Group  of  the  ist  Guides.  Early  in  the 
morning,  the  two  Squadrons  under  my  command  had 
been  sent  from  Geet-Betzi  on  reconnaissance:  the  3rd, 
towards  Looz  and  the  4th,  in  the  direction  of  Oreye. 
It  was,  therefore,  without  troops  that  I  arrived  at 
Budingen  towards  7.30  p.m. 

I  took  up  my  quarters  at  the  Dubois  farm  where 
there  was  already  a  relief  post.  The  passage  of  the 
Gette,  the  bridge  of  which  had  been  destroyed,  was 
defended  by  a  Company  of  the  4th  Line  Regiment, 
installed  in  good  trenches.  The  Commander,  Lieuten- 
ant Dothee,  informed  me,  though,  that  he  had  instruc- 
tions to  go  on  to  Cumptich  during  the  night.     As  I 

77 


yS  Brave  Belgians 

could  not  remain  alone  in  a  locality  so  accessible  to  the 
enemy,  I  begged  him  to  stay  until  other  troops  came 
to  replace  him,  and  I  informed  my  Colonel  of  the  situ- 
ation. During  the  evening.  Captain  Commander  de 
Favereau  was  sent  to  my  support.  He  was  at  the 
head  of  the  ist  Squadron  of  the  2nd  Guides.  They 
bivouacked  in  a  field  near  my  farm,  and  after  having 
his  horses  attended  to  and  his  men  fed,  the  Captain 
was  ready  at  2,30  to  relieve  the  Company  of  the  4th 
Line  Regiment. 

Lieutenant  Formanoir  occupied  the  bridge  and  the 
left  bank  of  the  Gette;  Lieutenant  Comte  d'Ursel 
the  trenches  to  the  south,  keeping  watch,  too,  over  the 
mill  of  the  St.  Job  farm.  Between  them  was  Lieu- 
tenant Viscount  de  Jonghe  d'Ardoye's  platoon  and, 
established  in  the  chapel,  300  yards  to  the  east  of  the 
bridge,  a  post  kept  watch  on  the  Graesen  and  Leau 
roads. 

During  the  night  there  was  no  sign  of  any  approach 
by  the  enemy  and  we  were  perfectly  tranquil.  Towards 
6.30,  the  4th  Squadron  of  the  ist  Guides,  under 
Commander  van  den  Branden  de  Reeth,  arrived. 
His  men  were  tired  out  after  a  very  difficult  reconnais- 
sance. They  took  some  rest  and  supplied  themselves 
with  fresh  provisions  before  occupying  the  northern 
sector. 

Towards  7  o'clock,  I  made  an  inspection  of  the 
positions.  The  defence  did  not  reach  sufficiently  near 
Geet-Betz.  I  therefore  sent  Baron  de  Crombrugghe 
(a  pupil  of  the  Military  School)  with  about  ten  horse- 
men, about  300  or  400  yards  further  north.  At  an- 
other place,  I  discovered  a  little  foot-bridge  which  I 
ordered  to  be  surrounded  with  brambles  pulled  up 
from  the  neighbouring  estates.     This  passage  was  thus 


The  Budingen  Combat  79 

rendered  impracticable.     The  soldiers  were  now  at 
their  posts  everywhere,  impatient  to  fight  and  anxious 

to  distinguish  themselves. 

On  my  return  along  the  Gette,  I  heard  a  detonation. 
It  was  Lieutenant  d'Ursel  firing  on  some  German 
soldiers,  who  were  hidden  in  the  woods  a  few  yards 
away.  I  armed  myself  with  a  carbine  and  very  soon 
caught  sight  of  two  Germans  crouching  down,  prepar- 
ing to  shoot  us.  I  brought  one  of  them  down  and 
d'Ursel  accounted  for  the  other.  After  shooting  for  a 
few  minutes,  we  rendered  several  of  our  adversaries 
hors  de  combat.  Suddenly  a  ball  whizzed  by  and  I 
heard  a  slight  snapping  noise  to  my  right.  On  turning 
my  head,  I  saw  d'Ursel  stretched  inanimate  on  the 
slope  of  the  trench.  He  appeared  to  be  dead.  One 
of  the  Cavalry,  Simon,  approached  and  raised  the  poor 
man's  colhack.  A  gaping  wound  was  to  be  seen  at  the 
back  of  the  unfortunate  officer's  head.  What  a  pain- 
ful impression,  and  what  a  feeling  of  intense  sadness  a 
chief  feels  on  seeing  one  of  his  bravest  officers  fall  at  his 
side! 

The  combat  was  now  going  on  all  along  the  line  and 
many  balls  whizzed  by  our  ears.  I  hurried  to  the 
Dubois  farm  and  ordered  Commander  van  den 
Branden  to  bring  his  horses  to  the  rendezvous  to 
the  west  of  the  station,  and  to  occupy  the  trenches  to 
the  north  of  the  bridge,  immediately,  with  as  many 
men  as  possible,  while  the  Squadron  of  the  2nd  Guides 
continued  to  defend  those  on  the  south.  After 
sending  a  patrol  on  horseback  to  Glabeck,  to  watch  the 
stream  between  this  hamlet  and  the  Gette,  I  sent 
the  doctors  from  the  relief  post  to  fetch  d'Ursel  and 
attend  to  him.  The  combat  was  violent,  the  enemy 
sending  us  bullets  and  shrapnels  all  the  time.     Our 


8o  Brave  Belgians 

men  answered  with  great  precision.  All  the  enemy 
sharp-shooters  who  ventured  out  of  the  wood  were 
brought  down.  Fortunately,  towards  8  o'clock, 
Quartermaster  Bonnejonne,  of  the  1st  Chasseurs, 
arrived  with  a  machine-gun.  This  was  placed  to  the 
south  of  the  bridge,  under  the  direction  of  Lieutenant 
de  Jonghe. 

A  few  minutes  later,  I  received  the  following  order 
by  telephone:  "In  case  the  line  of  the  river  should  be 
forced,  rally  at  Grootenbosch,  to  go  to  Vroen  and 
Kersbeck-AIiscom, "  and  at  the  same  time  the  follow- 
ing notice:  "Commander  of  Squadron  of  2nd  Guides 
at  Budingen.  By  order  of  General  commanding 
Cavalry  Division,  you  pass  under  my  orders,  and  have 
for  mission  to  defend,  to  the  uttermost,  Budingen 
bridge.  A  machine-gtm  is  at  your  service.  Communi- 
cate with  me  at  Geet-Betz. — Colonel  ist  Guides." 

As  I  had  the  direction  of  the  Budingen  combat,  I 
took  these  orders  for  myself.  On  going  again  through 
the  trenches  to  the  south  of  the  bridge,  I  came  to  the 
spot  where  d'Ursel  had  been  hit.  The  Lieutenant  was 
lying  at  the  foot  of  the  slope  and  seemed  to  be  asleep. 
An  almost  imperceptible  wound  marked  the  comer  of 
his  left  eye  with  a  red  spot. 

"Well,  d'Ursel,  "  I  said,  "how  do  you  feel?" 

Before  he  had  even  opened  his  eyes,  he  answered: 
"Ah,  it  is  you.  Major?" 

I  was  surprised  to  see  that  his  eyes  were  clear  and 
animated. 

"Are  you  suffering  much?"  I  asked. 

"No,  not  much, "  he  answered. 

"I  have  given  orders  that  you  are  to  be  taken  to 
the  rehef  post,"  I  said.  "With  good  care,  you  will 
soon  be  yourself  again. "     He  thanked  me  and  then 


The  Budineen  Combat  8i 


'& 


said:  "If  I  should  not  get  through,  will  you  tell  my 
wife  that  my  last  thought  was  of  her." 

I  promised,  but  assured  him  that  his  wound  was  not 
at  all  grave  and  that  the  doctors  would  soon  dress  it. 
On  seeing  him  perfectly  conscious  and  calm,  able  to 
talk  quite  easily,  I  hoped  that  the  ball  had  only  gone 
round  the  skull,  and  that  the  wound  at  the  back  of  the 
head  was  merely  a  slit  caused  by  the  exit  of  the  pro- 
jectile. On  leaving  him,  I  gave  orders  for  the  removal 
of  the  wounded  man.  Unfortunately,  the  order  could 
not  be  carried  out,  as  the  German  attack  now  became 
more  violent  and  more  decisive.  The  enemy's  shrap- 
nels reached  our  trenches  and  the  number  of  the 
assailants  increased  every  minute.  At  the  chapel,  the 
observation  post  had  been  compelled  to  fall  back, 
and  there  were  masses  of  enemy  foot-soldiers  there, 
who  were  being  mown  down  by  our  machine-gun  and 
by  the  platoons  of  Lieutenant  de  Jonghe  and  of 
Lieutenant  d'Ursel.  It  was  then  a  quarter  past  nine. 
A  fresh  order  now  reached  me:  "In  case  the  river 
should  be  forced,  rally  at  Vroen. — Colonel  ist  Guides." 

As  I  had  previously  received  instructions  to  hold 
out  to  the  uttermost,  I  considered  it  was  my  duty  to 
resist  still.  My  men  were  behaving  admirably,  but 
some  of  them  declared  that  they  heard  balls  whistling 
behind  them. 

"You  are  mistaken,"  I  said  to  them,  "what  you 
hear  are  the  balls  against  the  walls  of  the  houses  near.  " 

Our  machine-gun  was  now  choked  and  could  not  be 
used  for  a  time.  Quartermaster  Bonnejonne  was 
wounded.  Lieutenant  de  Jonghe  managed  to  repair 
the  mechanism  of  the  gun  and  went  on  firing  himself. 

At  9.30,  I  went  to  the  village  square,  where  Com- 
mander van  den  Branden  was  stationed.     Two  shells 

6 


82  Brave  Belgians 

burst  a  few  yards  away  from  us.  Just  at  this  mo- 
ment, Brigadier  Desterbeck,  of  the  4th  Squadron  of  ist 
Guides,  who  was  on  patrol  with  Glabeck,  hurried  to 
me  to  tell  me  that  an  enemy  Company,  preceded  by  a 
number  of  sharp-shooters,  was  coming  along  by  the 
railway  line  from  Geet-Betz  towards  Budingen. 

This  changed  the  situation,  as  superior  forces  would 
attack  my  flank  rendering  our  resistance  useless. 
I  gave  the  order  to  retreat  and  mentioned  Grooten- 
bosch  as  our  rallying  point. 

Some  Germans  already  occupied  houses  in  the 
villages,  and  others  had  reached  the  big  farm  and  the 
buildings  to  the  west  of  the  halt.  The  conditions  of 
the  retreat  of  our  two  Squadrons  were  therefore 
against  us,  as,  in  order  to  get  to  their  horses,  my  men 
had  to  cross  a  space  which  was  now  being  fired  on  by 
the  adversary.  This  was  a  bad  piece  of  ill-luck. 
Whilst  the  fight  had  been  going  on,  some  of  our  horses, 
terrified  by  the  noise  of  the  firing  and  by  the  bursting 
of  the  shrapnels,  had  escaped  from  their  keepers  and 
were  galloping  about  on  the  plain.  A  wild  chase  now 
took  place,  in  order  that  my  men  should  capture  their 
mounts.  When  they  were  once  more  in  their  saddles 
and  the  retreat  had  commenced,  the  Germans,  hid- 
den in  the  farms,  fired  on  them  to  the  best  of  their 
ability.  Fortunately,  their  aim  was  not  good,  so  that 
only  a  few  of  our  men  were  hit,  more  or  less  seriously. 
Captain  Commander  de  Favereau  had  his  left  arm 
fractured  and  his  horse  killed  under  him. 

The  moment  was  critical,  as  the  enemy  foot-soldiers, 
more  and  more  numerous  in  the  adjacent  houses, 
continued  firing,  although  nearly  always  unsuccess- 
fully. If  their  aim  had  been  good,  not  one  of  us 
would  have  escaped.     There  was  no  time  to  lose  and 


The  Budingen  Combat  83 

a  rapid  gallop  saved  our  Squadrons  from  the  enemy 
projectiles. 

As  I  was  one  of  the  last  to  leave  the  spot  where 
the  combat  had  taken  place,  when  I  went,  at  full 
speed,  to  the  place  where  the  horses  had  been  left, 
men  and  mounts  had  started.  Only  Quartermaster 
Keucker  de  Wattlet  and  two  or  three  others  were 
there.  It  was  impossible  to  find  my  horse.  To  avoid 
danger,  as  the  bullets  were  whistling  through  the 
air  on  every  side,  I  took  refuge  behind  a  house.  Lucki- 
ly, a  horse  was  just  passing.  I  caught  it,  sprang  into 
the  saddle  and  set  off  at  a  gallop  in  the  direction  of 
Grootenbosch,  across  the  open  country.  I  was  almost 
grazed  by  hundreds  of  bullets.  It  is  perfectly  incom- 
prehensible that  I  should  have  escaped  uninjured.  I 
drew  up  near  a  brick-kiln,  and  called  out  to  the  various 
isolated  horsemen  who  rode  past.  About  forty  men 
were  soon  with  me,  when  an  important  group  of 
other  Guides  joined  us,  and  told  me  of  the  presence 
of  Cavalry  between  Dries  and  Miscom.  At  the  head 
of  these  men,  I  went  off  in  the  direction  of  Hoogen,  a 
hundred  yards  to  the  east  of  Grootenbosch,  where 
I  met  Lieutenant  de  Formanoir  with  his  platoon.  I  at 
once  gave  orders  to  this  officer  to  reconnoitre  the  Cav- 
alry we  had  heard  was  on  the  plain.  Twenty  minutes 
later  he  returned,  telling  me  that  it  was  the  ist  Regi- 
ment of  Guides  on  the  way  to  Kersbeck-Miscom. 
It  was  then  about  12  o'clock. 

It  will  be  of  interest  here  to  give  an  extract  from  a 
letter  sent  to  me  by  Dr.  Lepape,  who  was  wounded 
during  the  combat  and  taken  prisoner. 

"At  the  beginning  of  the  engagement,"  he  said,  "I 
was  with  Dr.  Spelkens,  near  the  Dubois  Farm,  which 
we  had  converted,  as  well  as  we  could,  into  a  relief 


84  Brave  Belgians 

post.  We  each  went  our  way,  in  order  to  make  final 
arrangements  about  getting  the  wounded  in  as  promptly 
as  possible.  Just  then,  only  a  few  rare  balls  whizzed 
over  the  road,  but  there  was  firing,  parallel  with  the 
railway  line,  at  the  horses  grouped  between  the  farm 
and  the  railway.  It  was  here  that  I  was  first  called 
for,  and,  whilst  I  was  dressing  wounds,  I  saw  the  helter- 
skelter  among  the  horses,  which  were  rearing  and  pull- 
ing at  their  tethers,  in  order  to  get  away.  It  was  all 
in  vain  that  their  keepers  and  the  farriers  endeavoured 
to  soothe  them.  Afterwards,  they  tried  to  rally  them 
in  the  direction  of  the  level  crossing.  I  saw  Gevaert, 
the  farrier,  killed  by  a  shot  in  his  forehead.  I  was  just 
getting  up,  as  I  saw  my  efforts  were  all  in  vain,  when 
I  was  hit  in  the  knee  by  a  projectile.  Fortunately, 
after  extracting  this  and  bathing  my  knee,  I  was  able 
to  continue  my  service.  When  our  soldiers  were 
retreating,  I  saw  that  they  were  being  followed,  at 
about  a  hundred  yards'  distance,  by  men  in  grey 
uniforms  who  were  creeping  along  by  the  railroad. 
My  orderly  now  came  rushing  back  to  tell  me  that  we 
were  retreating.  I  went  into  the  farm  and  destroyed 
all  the  papers  which  the  sub-officers  had  left  there, 
when  surprised  by  the  alert.  Among  these  papers 
were  officers'  lists,  papers  with  the  regiment  headings, 
diaries  of  the  campaign,  letters,  etc.  I  then  went  off  to 
join  the  troops.  I  was  unwise  enough  to  spring  on  to  a 
horse  without  thinking  of  my  leg,  so  that  a  few  yards 
farther  on  I  fell  off  and  fractured  a  rib.  When  I  came 
to  myself,  all  my  papers  and  my  weapons  had  dis- 
appeared, most  of  the  houses  were  in  flames,  and  a 
few  Belgians,  inside  one  of  the  houses,  were  still 
firing.  A  little  while  later,  I  saw  troops  of  Infan- 
try with  machine-guns  and  cannons  filing  along  for 


The  Budino^en  Combat  85 


'i3 


about  two  hours.     I  remember  a  few  things  that  I 
noticed : 

"  ist.  The  German  officers  made  their  men  believe 
that  we  were  French  and  not  Belgians  (the  red  trousers 
served  as  a  proof). 

"  2nd.  The  doors  and  windows  of  the  houses  were 
systematically  forced  with  the  butt  end  of  guns,  and 
the  dwellings  were  set  on  fire  by  means  of  plugs  piled 
up  in  packets,  that  certain  soldiers  were  carrying. 
In  a  few  seconds  the  flame  appeared  and  spread 
rapidly. 

"  3rd.  The  Germans  wanted  to  shoot  the  prisoners, 
one  of  whom  was  a  Quartermaster,  because  they  had 
fired  from  a  window,  and  this  they  said  was  contrary 
to  the  laws  of  warfare.  As  I  could  speak  a  little 
German,  I  endeavoured  to  interfere  and,  for  my  inter- 
vention, I  received  some  heavy  blows.  I  do  not  know 
how  the  matter  ended. 

"The  medical  service  was  perfect.  The  service  of 
burying  was  extremely  faulty.  The  grave-diggers  did 
not  trouble  about  the  Belgian  dead,  leaving  them  to  be 
buried  by  the  inhabitants.  Needless  to  say  they  were 
robbed." 

As  regards  Lieutenant  d'Ursel,  I  knew  he  had  been 
wounded  under  the  left  temple,  but  I  heard  that  he  was 
dead  when  I  was  at  St.  Trond.  According  to  infor- 
mation that  I  received,  when  the  body  of  this  officer 
of  the  Guides  was  identified,  he  was  wounded  in  the 
face  and  heart. 

From  this  account,  we  see  that  the  Germans  attacked 
the  Budlngen  bridge  with  considerable  forces,  that  the 
two  Squadrons  of  Guides  resisted  with  the  greatest 
bravery,  and  that,  in  compliance  with  their  instruc- 
tions, they  defended  to  the  uttermost  the  passage  of  the 


86  Brave  Belgians 

Gette.  To  my  deep  regret,  I  was  obliged  to  leave 
Lieutenant  d'Ursel  on  the  battle-field.  But  I  affirm 
that,  at  the  time  I  left  him,  he  had  only  one  wound  in 
the  head  and  that  if  he  was  wounded  afterwards  in  the 
heart,  he  had  been  killed  when  wounded,  in  contempt  of 
the  laws  of  warfare. 


CHAPTER  X 
Aerschot 

(August  19,  1 9 14) 

From  the  Report  of  Captain  Commander  Gilson,  command- 
ing THE  4TH  Company  of  the  ist  Battalion  of  the 
9TH  Line  Regiment 

The  Belgian  Army,  two  Corps  strong,  had  held  its  observation 
position  from  the  5th  to  the  i8th  of  August.  It  had  resisted 
the  attacks  of  the  enemy  cavalry  and  light  troops.  When 
attacked  by  eleven  enemy  Corps  and  three  Cavalry  Divisions, 
about  500,000  men,  supported  by  600  machine-gims  and  1800 
cannons,  it  fell  back  on  Antwerp.  A  lively  rear-guard  action  took 
place  between  the  nth  German  Corps  and  the  9th  and  14th  Line 
Regiments  in  the  direction  of  Aerschot. 

On  the  i8th  of  August,  19 14,  the  9th  Line  Regiment 
was  entrusted  with  protecting  the  right  flank  of  the 
campaign  army,  which  was  falling  back  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Antwerp.  The  regiment  left  Kessel-Loo  at 
2.30  in  the  afternoon,  reached  Aerschot  at  7  o'clock 
and  took  up  its  position  to  the  north,  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Demer.  The  ist  Battalion  faced  the 
Aerschot-Hersselt  road;  the  2nd,  a  little  to  the  east, 
defending  Doorenberg,  a  country  house,  inhabited  in 
time  of  peace,  it  is  said,  by  a  German  officer;  the  3rd 
was  first  held  in  reserve,  but  after  reconnaissance  of 
the  place,  two  of  its  Companies  fell  back,  in  order  to 

87 


88  Brave  Belgians 

rally  the  ist  and  2nd  Battalions  and  cover  the  retreat. 
The  information  which  reached  us,  from  time  to  time, 
was  to  the  effect  that  the  Germans  were  advancing  by 
the  Aerschot-Hersselt  road,  occupied  by  the  4th  Com- 
pany of  the  ist  Battalion.  The  Commander,  Captain 
Gilson,  an  officer  of  great  bravery,  who  had  given 
proof  of  what  he  was  capable  in  the  Congo,  at  once 
endeavoured  to  consolidate  his  position  b}^  defence 
works;  barricades,  beams,  and  heaps  of  earth  were 
brought  to  obstruct  the  level  crossing  of  the  Antwerp- 
Hasselt  railroad;  barbed  wire  was  stretched  across 
the  threatened  road,  the  plains  of  which  could  be  swept 
by  two  machine-guns,  placed  on  the  right  and  left  and 
protected  by  grass  earthworks. 

As  to  the  Company,  it  was  disposed  in  the  following 
manner:  the  ist  Platoon,  under  Lieutenant  Fauconier, 
was  ranged  along  the  Aerschot-Herenthals  railroad; 
the  2nd  Platoon,  under  Lieutenant  Jacquet,  and  the 
3rd  Platoon,  under  Adjutant  Theys,  took  up  their 
position  along  the  curved  embankment  of  the  Hersselt 
road,  one  of  them  guarding  the  west  sector  and  the 
other  the  east.  A  watch-out  post,  composed  of  twelve 
men,  under  the  command  of  First  Sergeant  Schee- 
naerts,  was  placed  six  hundred  yards  away  from  mile- 
stone 2,  near  the  Aurondenberg  Mill,  to  the  summit 
of  which  an  observer  climbed.  Finally,  sentinels  and 
patrols  went  on  further  to  the  front  and  were  sta- 
tioned on  the  flanks,  in  order  to  avoid  surprises  of 
any  kind. 

On  the  19th  of  August,  towards  five  o  clock  m  the 
morning,  the  observer  signalled  the  approach  of  a 
column  of  German  Infantry  and  Cavalry  on  the 
Hersselt  road.  Their  scouts  soon  reached  our  watch- 
out  post,  which  fell  back.     In  the  distance,  could  be 


Aerschot  89 

heard  the  characteristic  sound  of  the  artillery  guns 
rolling  along  the  pavement. 

The  enemy's  advance  guard  stopped  at  the  border 
of  the  woods,  about  four  hundred  yards  to  the  north 
of  the  railway,  whilst,  at  the  extreme  right,  six  scouts 
continued  their  advance  in  the  direction  of  the  level 
crossing.     Commander  Gilson  told  his  sharp-shooters 
to  keep  in  hiding  and  to  let  the  enemies  approach. 
When  he  saw  them  about  a  hundred  yards  away,  he 
seized  his  gun,  aimed  calmly  and  deliberately,  and 
brought  down  three  Boches,  one  after  the  other.     The 
three  others,  alarmed,  threw  themselves  into  a  ditch. 
Fresh  scouts,  in  greater  mmiber  this  time,  replaced 
them  immediately,  and  the  German  vanguard  Com- 
pany deployed  to  the  east  and  west  of  the  road  and 
commenced  firing.     The  Belgians  did  not  reply,  but 
when  the  enemy,  scarcely  attempting  any  conceal- 
ment, made  a  bound  forwards  all  along  its  line,  Gilson 
commanded  the  opening  of  fire  with  rifles  and  machine- 
guns.     The  aim  of  the  latter  was  so  remarkable  and  so 
precise  that  the  Commander  could  not  help  crying  out 
"Bravo"  to  the  nearest  gunner.     Under  this  aval- 
anche, the  enemy  Company  was  almost  wiped  out. 

From  this  moment,  the  Germans  never  ceased  send- 
ing reinforcements  to  the  right  and  left  of  their  initial 
deployment.  They  emerged  from  the  woods,  at 
about  three  hundred  or  four  hundred  yards  to  the 
north  of  the  Belgian  line,  but,  as  soon  as  they  were  in 
the  open,  their  march  was  stopped  by  the  fire  of  their 
adversaries.  Four  Companies  attempted  the  passage 
in  vain  and  retreated  into  the  woods,  leaving  a  great 
number  of  their  men  on  the  plain.  Towards  four  in 
the  afternoon,  the  German  Artillery,  placed  beyond 
the  crest  of  the  hill,  probably  near  milestone  3,  opened 


90  Brave  Belgians 

fire,  first  on  the  border  of  the  wood  to  the  north  of 
Aerschot,  then  more  to  the  south,  on  the  town  itself. 
Some  of  the  shells  burst  in  the  Belgian  line.  Half  an 
hour  later,  two  German  machine-guns  were  put  into 
action  and  one  could  hear  their  "  Ta-ra-ta-ra  "  distinct- 
ly in  the  midst  of  the  detonations  of  the  musketry. 
On  account  of  the  absence  of  any  smoke,  though,  the 
Belgians  could  not  discover  their  exact  position. 

Finally,  Commander  Gilson,  with  his  field-glasses, 
caught  sight  of  one  of  the  enemy  machine-guns  on  a 
heap  of  wood.  An  observer,  crouching  down,  gave  the 
necessary  indications  to  our  gunner.  He,  in  his 
turn,  passed  the  information  on  for  the  machine-gun 
nearest  him  and  to  a  few  sharp-shooters,  and,  in  a  few 
minutes,  the  German  gun  was  reduced  to  silence. 

The  Boches  brought  up  another  one,  and,  in  spite  of 
its  proximity,  Gilson  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in 
locating  it.  As  soon  as  he  had  done  so,  thanks  again 
to  his  field-glasses,  he  directed  the  firing  himself  and 
brought  down  two  of  the  enemy  gunners. 

As  they  could  not  succeed  in  breaking  through  the 
Belgian  front,  the  Germans  now  executed  a  turning 
movement  in  the  direction  of  our  left.  Three  or  four 
Companies  crept  along  the  west  embankment  of 
the  Herenthals  railway,  whilst  other  troops  came 
out  from  the  De  Heide  Woods,  situated  still  farther 
west.  The  Artillery,  too,  came  nearer  and  took  posi- 
tion at  about  seven  hundred  yards  away,  on  the  side 
of  the  Mill,  the  gallery  of  which  concealed  an  observer. 
Four  guns  then  executed  a  rapid  firing  of  shrapnel 
exactly  over  the  Belgian  line;  the  others  continued 
bombarding  the  town  of  Aerschot  and  its  outskirts. 
On  the  crest  of  the  hill,  to  the  east,  could  be  seen  the 
outline  of  grey  masses  on  the  way  down.     In  order  to 


Aerschot  91 

oppose  this  turning  movement,  and  to  prevent  the 
enemy  cutting  him  off,.  Colonel  Fldbus,  in  command  of 
the  9th  Line  Regiment,  sent  a  Company  to  occupy  the 
railway  line  behind  Aerschot,  at  the  height  of  the 
milestone  23.  He  would  have  a  safe  retreat  there,  if 
the  position  became  impossible. 

The  enemy  was  concentrating  its  chief  effort, 
though,  on  the  4th  Company  of  the  ist  Battalion,  the 
men  of  which  had  been  sustaining  a  very  unequal  fight 
for  several  hours.  Commander  Gilson  sent  a  note  to 
the  Major  by  a  cyclist,  notifying :  "4/1  severely  engaged. 
Germans  outflanking  us  to  the  left.  Can  I  count  on 
a  reinforcement?"  This  request  was  transmitted  to 
the  Colonel,  who  sent  a  Company  to  support  the  4/1. 
In  order  to  reach  the  spot  occupied  by  Commander 
Gilson,  this  Company  had  to  cross  an  open  space 
which  was  being  swept  by  the  enemy  Artillery  estab- 
lished at  Geymelberg.  The  firing  to  bar  this  way 
made  it  impossible  for  the  reinforcement  to  advance. 
It  was  all  in  vain  that  the  men  endeavoured  to  hollow 
out  shelters  for  themselves,  rapidly,  as  the  machine- 
guns  raked  the  trenches,  thus  causing  many  victims. 
Under  these  conditions,  the  Colonel  judged  a  retreat 
necessary  and  ordered  the  different  Companies  to 
fall  back  by  the  railway,  under  the  protection  of  the 
troops  placed  there  in  reserve.  The  despatch  bearers, 
with  the  order  intended  for  the  4th  Company,  were 
killed  on  their  way  back,  though,  and  Commander  Gil- 
son remained  without  instructions  and  without  rein- 
forcements. He  saw  the  Companies,  occupying  his  right 
leave,  one  after  the  other,  in  the  direction  of  Aerschot. 

The  fate  of  this  single  troop,  left  alone  to  sustain 
the  brunt  of  the  enemy's  onset,  is  told  by  Commander 
Gilscn  himself  in  the  following  words : 


92  Brave  Belgians 

"On  seeing  the  various  Companies  moving  ojEE 
in  the  direction  of  Aerschot,  I  understood  that 
the  position  of  the  regiment  was  impossible.  Two 
explanations  came  at  once  to  my  mind:  (a)  either 
the  order  to  retreat  has  been  sent  and  has  not  reached 
me,  (b)  or  the  care  of  protecting  the  retreat  is  left 
officially  to  me.  Considering  the  precarious  situ- 
ation of  the  regiment  on  march  under  the  fire  of  the 
German  Artillery,  a  situation  which  would  soon  be 
considerably  worse  if  I  ceased  to  hold  back  the  impor- 
tant forces  of  the  enemy  and  left  them  the  opportunity 
of  flinging  themselves  upon  our  troops,  I  decided  to 
cover  the  retreat  of  the  regiment  and  to  fight,  if  need 
were,  to  the  last  man.  In  spite  of  this  resolution,  in 
order  to  encourage  my  soldiers,  I  called  out  to  them: 
'  Courage,  hold  out  a  few  minutes  more.  Our  com- 
rades will  come  to  the  rescue.' 

"As  no  reinforcement  arrived,  though,  my  men  real- 
ised the  final  sacrifice  I  was  asking  of  them.  In  the 
midst  of  the  uproar  of  the  fray,  I  reminded  them  of  the 
promise  they  had  given  me  at  Liege  to  hold  out  to  the 
death.  'This  is  the  moment,  to  know  who  are  brave 
men!'  I  added.  All  who  heard  me  answered  with  a 
nod  of  approval  and  a  gesture  of  disdain  for  the 
Germans.  At  the  same  time,  I  sent  my  Major  two 
more  notes,  exposing  to  him  my  position  and  telling 
him  my  resolution.  They  did  not  reach  their  destina- 
tion, the  despatch  bearers  were  killed  in  the  street  at 
Aerschot,  the  entrance  to  the  town  being  literally 
under  a  rain  of  projectiles. 

"Towards  seven  o'clock,  I  sent  a  soldier  to  the  cross- 
roads to  find  out  if  all  the  regiment  had  passed  south- 
wards. During  my  retreat,  I  found  his  dead  body  at 
the  entrance  to  the  town,  his  head  nearly  blown  off 


Aerschot  93 

by  a  shrapnel.  I  recognised  him  easily  by  his  wallet 
of  white  linen. 

' '  From  quarter  past  seven,  we  were  almost  surround- 
ed by  forces  which  I  reckon  must  have  been  at  least 
ten  Companies  strong.  The  firing  was  so  violent  that 
it  was  impossible  for  me  to  communicate  with  Lieuten- 
ant Fauconier's  Platoon,  forming  a  defensive  angle 
to  my  left. 

"Towards  seven-thirty,  Lieutenant  Jacquet,  placed 
on  the  left  of  the  road,  called  out  to  me  that  the  posi- 
tion could  no  longer  be  held,  as  the  Germans  had 
turned  round  us  and  were  firing  on  us  from  the  back, 
I  saw  this  myself,  but  I  considered  that  it  was  too  soon 
to  let  go,  as  the  enemy  might  still  catch  up  with  the 
regiment.  I  told  Lieutenant  Jacquet,  by  shouting 
and  by  gesture,  that  we  must  still  hold  out,  in  spite  of 
everything.  This  officer  replied  'Good!'  simply  by  the 
military  salute. 

"The fight  continued  in  the  following  manner:  The 
Germans  had  brought  up  six  machine-guns,  two  on  our 
front,  two  on  our  right,  and  two  in  the  second  line. 
The  artillery  guns  were  firing  continually,  some  on 
the  town,  and  the  others  on  our  line.  We  went  on  like 
this  until  seven  fifty-five.  One  of  our  machine-guns 
gave  out ;  it  was  pierced  by  balls.  I  tried  to  save  the 
second.  The  gunners  endeavoured  to  draw  it  back, 
but,  during  the  few  minutes  that  this  was  taking  place, 
it  was  hit  by  balls  and  damaged.  We  flung  it  into  the 
ditch.  The  regiment  was  now  out  of  reach  and  it 
remained  for  me  to  save  those  of  my  men  who  were 
still  unscathed.  A  hundred  of  them,  either  killed  or 
wounded,  were  lying  on  the  embankment.  They  had 
fallen  at  their  post.  Others  had  gone  a  few  yards 
farther  back  before  falling.     I  whistled  for  the  retreat, 


94  Brave  Belgians 

giving  the  command:  'In  rank,  to  the  left,  we  are 
going  to  beat  a  retreat  slowly.  Adjutant  Theys, 
with  your  right  section,  you  will  protect  the  rest  of  the 
Company.'  At  that  instant,  a  ball  hit  me  in  the 
face.  I  made  a  sign  to  Lieutenant  Fauconier  to  begin 
the  movement.  He  started,  followed  by  Jacquet's 
Platoon,  and  then  by  They's  Platoon  with  the  last 
section,  which  I  accompanied.  The  retreat  was 
accomplished  without  any  hurry,  by  creeping  along, 
which  was  the  only  way  possible.  In  spite  of  this, 
many  of  my  men  fell  in  the  open  space  that  we  had  to 
clear  before  reaching  the  entrance  to  the  town.  This 
entrance  was  literally  swept  by  balls  and  shrapnels. 
As  I  was  quite  the  last,  behind  all  the  others,  with 
seven  men,  two  of  whom  were  wounded,  I  took  refuge 
close  to  a  building  and  fired  five  cartridges  on  the 
enemy  who  were  closing  up  round  us.  I  took  from  a 
dead  soldier,  the  roll  of  maps  of  1/40,000  that  I  had 
entrusted  to  him,  and  flung  it  into  a  well. 

"  During  a  lull,  we  set  off  again  and  finally  reached 
the  deserted  station.  We  asked  for  news  of  the  regi- 
ment. Some  of  the  inhabitants,  wildly  excited, 
assured  us  that  the  troops  had  taken  the  Louvain 
road.  We  followed  the  railway  line  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, crossed  some  gardens  and  went  by  the  same 
road. 

"  I  am  proud  to  testify  in  the  first  place  to  the  ad- 
mirable, intrepid  conduct  of  my  three  Platoon  officers 
Lieutenant  Fauconier,  Lieutenant  Jacquet  and  Adjut- 
ant Theys.  I  cannot  find  words  strong  enough  to  tell 
how  heroic  and  how  sublime  their  conduct  was. 
Under  the  fiercest  fire,  they  remained  absolutely  calm 
and,  with  utter  fearlessness  of  death,  they  carried  out 
orders  and  accomplished,  in  the  most  perfect  way, 


Aerschot  95 

the  mission  of  protection  which  we  had  the  great  hon- 
our of  receiving.  Their  sang-froid,  their  spirit  of 
abnegation,  their  sentiment  of  comprehension  of  a 
sacred  duty  was  transmitted  by  them  to  their  men. 
I  take  the  liberty  of  asking  for  a  token  of  distinction 
for  these  three  officers,  whether  living  or  dead. 

"  I  do  not  yet  know  who  has  survived  of  this  Com- 
pany. I  only  know  that  the  losses  must  have  been 
very  great.  I  salute,  with  intense  emotion,  the  mem- 
ory of  the  brave  men  who  fell,  and  I  salute,  with  all 
respect  those  who  are  still  living.  All  of  them,  and  I 
repeat  all,  behaved  as  heroes.  I  would  also  specially 
mention  those  who  remained  with  me  at  the  very  last : 
Quartermaster  Sergeant  Van  Wynendael;  Corporal 
Deltombe,  who  was  wounded;  Corporal  Fernand 
Bauwens,  and  Private  Berlens.  These  four  soldiers 
supported  me  and,  at  a  given  moment,  almost  carried 
me  during  the  retreat,  when,  through  loss  of  blood, 
I  began  to  feel  weak  and  my  sight  became  dim. 

"Commander  Georges  Gilson, 
"Provincial  Government  Ambulance 
"Antwerp." 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  Few  Episodes  of  the  Retreat  of  Namur 

By    Captain    Paulis,    Artillery    Commander 

The  bombardment  of  Namur  commenced  on  the  2ist  of  August, 
at  lo  o'clock  A.M.,  and  was  directed  simultaneously  on  the  Andoy, 
Llarchovelette,  and  Cognelee  Forts,  as  well  as  on  the  intervals. 

During  the  morning  of  the  22nd  of  August,  the  garrison  made 
dashes  in  the  direction  of  the  besiegers'  lines.  They  were  greeted 
by  a  violent  discharge  of  musketry  and  by  the  fire  of  machine- 
guns.  Towards  10  o'clock,  on  the  arrival  of  three  French  Batta- 
lions, an  attack  on  Wartet  was  attempted,  but  the  troops  were 
compelled  to  fall  back  and  the  bombardment  continued  without 
respite. 

On  the  23rd  of  August,  at  three  in  the  morning,  after 
the  hard  fighting  of  the  preceding  days,  overwhelmed 
by  mental  and  physical  fatigue,  I  had  fallen  into  a 
troubled  sleep.  An  order  which  was  brought  to  me 
roused  me  completely.  The  last  batteries  we  had 
were  to  be  taken  to  the  Citadel,  immediately,  for  the 
defence  of  the  town  redoubt. 

This  was  the  end  of  the  resistance.  Namur,  shat- 
tered by  the  cannon,  was  living  its  last  hotirs.  The 
retreat  of  the  active  troops  was  about  to  commence. 
A  fresh  order  reached  me,  telling  me  to  take  my 
detachment  of  Artillery  to  Bois-de-Villers  and  to 
await  instructions  there. 

96 


The  Retreat  of  Namur  97 

In  the  radiant  brightness  of  that  beautiful  summer 
morning,  whilst  the  shooting  of  the  guns  and  the  roar 
of  the  cannon  was  to  be  heard  on  all  sides,  I  led  my 
little  troop  in  the  direction  of  Entre-Sambre-et-Meuse. 
My  men  were  silent  and  sorrowful.  I  saw  the  anguish 
in  my  own  heart  reflected  on  their  faces.  At  Liege, 
after  the  most  heroic  defence,  we  had  seen  our  men 
obliged  to  fall  back  before  the  foreigner.  At  Namur, 
it  was  to  be  a  repetition  of  the  same  thing.  There, 
as  here,  we  had  hoped  and  hoped,  up  to  the  last 
minute,  that  friendly  reinforcements  would  arrive. 
It  was  different  here  though!  From  Liege,  our 
retreat  had  been  towards  the  centre  of  our  own 
country,  we  were  at  home  and  we  knew  that  we  were 
going  to  join  our  comrades  of  the  army  in  campaign. 
From  Namur,  alas,  we  should  be  moving  towards  the 
frontier,  getting  farther  and  farther  away  from  our 
fellow-soldiers,  from  our  friends,  and  from  our  families. 

After  Liege,  every  man  in  our  detachment  had 
answered  to  the  roll-call.  On  leaving  Namur,  we 
thought  sorrowfully  of  those  of  our  comrades  who 
were  sleeping  for  ever  at  the  border  of  the  Grandes- 
Salles  Wood,  or  who  were  dying,  in  pain,  in  hospital 
beds. 

"Courage!  though,"  I  said  to  myself,  "we  must 
keep  our  hearts  up.  We  must  throw  a  veil  over  the 
past  and  look  ahead.  At  any  rate,  I  must  save  the 
brave  men  under  my  care. " 

ithe  information  I  had  with  regard  to  the  enemy 
was  very  vague.  The  Germans  were  said  to  be  stopped 
at  the  Sambre,  on  one  side,  and  repulsed  in  the  Dinant 
neighboiirhood,  some  distance  from  the  Meuse, 
on  the  other.  The  truth,  as  we  were  soon  to  see,  was 
quite  different.     At  Bois-de-Villers,  where  I  arrived 


98  "  Brave  Belgians 

towards  nine  o'clock,  I  noted  that  there  was  intense 
firing  in  the  direction  of  Sart-St.  Lavirent.  There 
was  no  doubt  possible.  The  Germans  had  forced 
the  passages  of  the  Sambre. 

I  made  a  hasty  reconnaissance  in  the  direction  of 
the  valley  of  the  Meuse.  The  inhabitants  told  me  that 
the  French  had  placed  outposts  as  far  as  Profonde- 
ville,  but  that  they  had  taken  them  away  the  evening 
before,  and  that  enemy  patrols  were  moving  about 
on  the  right  bank. 

It  was,  therefore,  impossible  to  start  with  my 
column  along  the  road  from  Profondeville  to  Dinant. 
This  road,  which  skirts  the  river,  is  commanded,  only 
a  short  distance  away,  by  the  heights  of  the  right  bank. 

There  was  only  one  thing  to  be  done,  and  that 
was  to  return  to  Namur  for  instructions. 

At  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  I  was  back  again 
as  far  as  the  St.  Heribert  Fort.  The  Commander 
informed  me  that  he  no  longer  had  telephonic  com- 
munication with  the  Governor  of  the  position.  He 
could  only  give  me  all  the  information  he  had  from 
private  sources.  The  Germans  had  crossed  the 
Sambre  in  great  masses  and  were  being  held,  at  the 
present  moment,  between  Fosse  and  St.  Gerard,  by  a 
French  army.  The  Meuse  also  had  been  forced  by 
the  enemy  at  Dinant. 

The  situation  was,  therefore,  most  critical  for  the 
Namur  garrison.  It  would  probably  be  completely 
encircled  and  it  only  had  one  road  left  for  retreat 
towards  France. 

I  decided  to  go  to  Ermeton-sur-Biert,  through 
Arbre  and  Bioul,  and  await  events  there. 

We  accordingly  set  off  and,  as  I  was  mounting  my 
horse,  I  gave  one  last  look  at  the  town.     The  sight  was 


The  Retreat  of  Namur  99 

both  imposing  and  terrible.  In  Namur  itself,  many 
of  the  houses  were  burning.  The  Citadel  seemed 
to  have  a  halo  round  it,  formed  by  the  fleecy  bursting 
of  the  shrapnels.  Farther  away,  the  villages  of 
Champion,  Bonnine,  and  Bouge  were  in  flames. 
MufHed  detonations,  repeated  by  the  echoes,  rever- 
berated on  every  side.  On  all  the  roads  from  Namur 
and  from  Flawinne,  could  be  seen  the  heads  of  the 
column  of  troops  of  the  4th  Division,  who  were 
endeavouring  to  escape  from  the  grasp  of  the  enemy. 
Poor  Namur!  With  heavy  hearts,  we  then  began 
that  long  retreat,  which  was  to  lead  us,  by  Belgian 
and  French  roads,  to  the  environs  of  Paris.  I  ar- 
rived at  Ermeton-sur-Biert  towards  half  past 
eight  in  the  evening.  I  went  a  little  further  on 
than  the  village  and  fixed  on  an  oat-field  for  our 
bivouac.  An  uninterrupted  firing  could  be  heard 
from  a  northerly  direction.  The  march  of  the  Ger- 
man troops  was  indicated,  over  half  the  horizon,  by 
the  villages  and  farms  in  flames.  In  a  south-easterly 
direction,  an  immense  glow,  in  strong  contrast  to  the 
darkness  of  the  night,  revealed  the  incredible  crime  of 
Dinant. 

"Whilst  some  of  my  gunners  were  dressing  the 
wounds  of  half  a  dozen  French  soldiers  whom  we  had 
picked  up  at  Denee,  and  the  drivers  were  getting  some 
oats  for  their  tired  horses,  I  remained  at  the  road- 
side, anxiously  questioning  the  dark  figures  who 
passed  by  in  the  night.  The  most  contradictory 
rumours  were  circulating.  According  to  some,  the 
British  troops  had  driven  the  Germans  back,  between 
Mons  and  Charleroi.  According  to  others,  on  the 
contrary,  we  had  already  been  turned  by  these  same 
Germans. 


loo  Brave  Beleians 


&' 


I  had  been  at  my  observation  post  more  than  an 
hour,  when  some  French  batteries  passed  by  at  a  quick 
trot.  There  was  no  doubt  now;  it  was  very  evident 
that  the  French  were  retreating.  Tired  though  we 
were,  it  was  indispensable  that  we  should  follow  the 
movement.  We,  therefore,  set  out  once  more.  It 
took  us  three  hours  to  go  the  five  miles  which 
separate  Ermeton  from  Rosee,  as  the  road  was 
blocked  by  waggons,  trucks,  refugees'  carts,  and 
vehicles  of  all  sorts.  They  were  advancing  with  the 
greatest  difficulty,  three  or  four  abreast.  Numbers 
of  refugees  on  foot,  men,  women,  and  children,  from 
the  neighbouring  villages,  had  slipped  in  among 
the  horses  and  vehicles,  adding  considerably  to  the 
confusion.  The  night  was  particularly  dark,  and  this 
darkness  was  only  relieved  by  the  distant  light  of 
the  flaming  houses  and,  from  time  to  time,  by  the 
bright  flashes  of  the  St.  Heribert  Fort  search-lights, 
which  seemed  to  be  sending  us  a  last  farewell  message. 
We  reached  Philippeville  at  four  o'clock  the  follow- 
ing morning.  During  the  night,  my  coltimn  had 
increased  in  numbers.  Soldiers  of  all  arms,  who  had 
lost  their  regiments,  had  joined  us,  feeling  instinc- 
tively that  they  were  lost  if  they  had  not  an  officer 
in  command. 

The  first  person  I  met,  on  arriving  at  Philippeville, 
was  Duruy,  the  French  Battalion  Chief,  whom  I  had 
known  before  the  war  as  IMilitary  Attache  at  Brus- 
sels. Three  months  later,  he  was  killed  in  Flanders, 
whilst  marching  bravely  at  the  head  of  a  Colonial 
Regiment. 

I  explained  my  situation  to  him  quickly  and  asked 
for  news  of  the  battle.  What  he  told  me  was  by  no 
means    reassuring.     The    Allies    had    been    crushed 


The  Retreat  of  Namur  loi 

by  the  invading  stream  and  they  were  falling  back, 
inch  by  inch. 

I  soon  received  instructions  from  the  French  officer 
in  command  of  the  district.  I  was  to  collect  all  the 
Belgian  troops  now  in  Philippeville  and  take  them  to 
Rocroi.     We  were  to  be  in  Rocroi  that  same  day. 

Twenty-two  miles  to  march  with  troops  which  had 
been  marching  already  for  twenty-four  hours!  The 
order  was  definite,  though,  and  I  felt  myself  that  it 
was  necessary.     Once  more  we  set  out. 

Before  leaving,  I  went  and  shook  hands  silently 
with  my  brave  comrade,  Hankar.  Only  the  day  be- 
fore he  was  a  lively  Sub-Lieutenant  from  the  Mili- 
tary School,  and  now  he  was  lying  in  a  motor-ambu- 
lance, with  his  foot  smashed  by  a  shell.  I  could  do 
absolutely  nothing  for  him.  What  a  terrible  thing 
war  is ! 

I  also  took  the  wounded  French  soldiers  we  had 
brought  from  Den^e  to  an  ambulance. 

I  will  not  describe  the  Calvary  of  that  long  march 
and  the  sufferings  of  my  exhausted  soldiers.  It  was 
eight  o'clock  at  night  when  we  reached  Rocroi,  and 
the  men  were  then  able  to  take  their  first  meal  that 
day. 

We  had  to  think  of  the  horses,  too,  and  to  get 
some  oats  for  them.  I  plead  guilty  to  having  acted 
in  a  manner  that  was  incorrect,  but  I  hope  I  may  be 
forgiven  for  it  under  the  circumstances.  At  that 
late  hour,  the  forage  stores  were  closed,  and  the  man 
in  charge  did  not  consider  himself  obliged  to  supply  me 
until  the  next  day. 

Necessity  knows  no  law.  In  accordance  with  this 
precept,  somewhat  lax,  but  indispensable  in  time  of 
war,  I  ordered  my  men  to  break  open  the  door  and 


102  Brave  Belgians 

take,  manu  militari,  the  oats  necessary.  I  left  a 
receipt,  quite  honestly,  for  what  I  had  taken. 

I  spent  the  night,  with  my  men,  in  the  big  Square 
of  the  town,  but  I  could  not  close  my  eyes.  Too 
many  thoughts  crowded  to  my  mind,  for,  from  what  I 
had  heard  and  seen  on  the  way,  I  was  convinced  that 
the  Germans  would  soon  be  at  Rocroi  and  that  we 
should  have  to  move  on  southwards. 

Where  were  we  to  go  though?  How  were  we  to 
rejoin  the  Belgian  army,  when  we  did  not  know  where 
it  was?     I  had  not  even  a  map  of  the  district. 

As  soon  as  it  was  daylight,  my  first  idea  was  to  try 
to  get  a  map,  but  how  was  I  to  find  it  in  a  town  that 
was  asleep?  I  knocked  at  several  doors,  but  there 
was  not  a  map  to  be  had.  Presently,  I  met  a  young 
cyclist  who  had  a  road-map  of  Northern  France.  I 
am  about  to  confess  my  second  indelicate  act.  I  said 
to  the  young  cyclist: 

"How  much  did  you  give  for  your  map?" 

"Three  francs,  "  he  replied. 

"I  will  give  you  five  francs  for  it. " 

"I  won't  sell  it,"  he  answered,  "as  I  cannot  get 
another  one. " 

"I  will  give  you  ten  francs,  "  I  insisted. 

"No, "  he  replied. 

"Then  I  shall  have  to  take  it,"  I  said  and,  before 
the  cyclist  had  time  to  recover  from  his  surprise,  I 
took  his  precious  map  and  made  off  like  the  thief  I 
was. 

After  examining  various  projects,  I  decided  on 
going  to  Rethel.  There  was  an  important  junction  of 
railways  and  roads  there.  I  could  communicate  by 
wire  with  our  Military  Attache  of  Paris  and  receive 
instructions. 


The  Retreat  of  Namur  103 

We  set  out  once  again,  but  our  march  was  slow,  as 
my  detachment  was  composed  of  soldiers  of  all  arms, 
most  of  whom  were  on  foot. 

The  problem  of  food  for  my  men  was  causing  me 
serious  anxiety,  when,  a  few  miles  from  Rocroi,  I 
came  across  a  column  with  food,  stationed  in  a  little 
village.  A  sub-officer,  whom  I  had  sent  on  recon- 
naissance, came  back  telling  me  that  the  officer  in 
command  of  this  column  had  given  orders  that  no 
food  was  to  be  given  to  Belgian  troops,  except  in  case  of 
a  requisition  written  by  the  General  commanding  the 
4th  Belgian  Division. 

I  have  already  confessed  to  breaking  into  forage 
stores  and  to  theft.  I  must  now  confess  to  an  abuse 
of  confidence.  I  signed  an  order  for  food  with  my 
own  name,  preceded  by  the  following  words:  "By 
order  of  the  General  commanding  the  4th  Belgian 
Division." 

I  had  no  right  to  do  this,  if  I  am  to  be  quite  frank. 
I  obtained  the  food  though  and,  as  will  be  seen  later 
on,  Lieutenant  General  Michel  himself  reaped  some 
advantage  from  my  indelicacy. 

The  scene  took  place  at  Liart,  where  we  arrived  the 
second  day  after  this  incident. 

Taught  by  experience,  I  always  arranged  for  our 
bivouac  to  be  near  places  where  food  colinnns  were 
quartered.  I  sent  a  subordinate  at  once  to  establish 
a  liaison  between  this  column  and  mine. 

One  night  when  we  were  quartered  near  Liart,  my 
liaison  agent,  when  sending  my  food,  let  me  know  that 
a  goods  train  was  to  return  empty  to  Rheims,  the 
following  day.  He  had  made  arrangements  with 
the  military  Commander  at  the  station  for  me  to  make 
use  of  this  transport. 


104  Brave  Belgians 

Glad  to  spare  my  men  fatigue,  and  to  gain  time,  I 
accepted  the  offer.  I  did  not  wait  for  daylight,  but 
set  out  at  once  for  Liart. 

A  surprise  was  in  store  for  us.  Lieutenant-General 
Michel  was  there,  at  the  head  of  his  Division.  There 
was  no  question  now  of  our  making  use  of  the  train,  as 
it  was,  of  course,  to  be  reserved  for  the  troops  on  foot. 
The  mounted  soldiers  were  to  go  to  Laon  by  the  ordin- 
ary way.  A  column  was  formed  under  the  orders  of 
Colonel  Iweins. 

Whilst  the  men  were  eating,  I  remembered  that  I 
had  some  beefsteak  in  reserve.  General  Michel,  who 
was  passing  near,  honoured  me  by  coming  to  our  table 
and  sharing  our  meal. 

Do  you  remember  this,  General?  I  did  not  own 
then  that  it  was,  in  reality,  you  inviting  me,  as  I  had 
obtained  that  meat,  thanks  to  "an  order"  from  you. 

It  took  us  two  days  to  reach  Laon  and  nothing 
occurred  to  interfere  with  us  on  our  way. 

One  thing  surprised  us,  though.  We  did  not  meet 
any  French  troops.  We  met  columns  with  food,  with 
ammunition,  and  various  carts  with  accessories,  but 
absolutely  no  fighting  troops. 

Om-  stuprise  increased  when  we  had  passed  Laon. 
Neither  at  Soissons,  Chateau-Thierry,  Coulommiers, 
nor  anywhere  else,  along  that  long  road  which  led 
to  the  south-east  of  Paris,  did  we  meet  either  Infan- 
try, Artillery,  or  Cavalry.  We  began  to  wonder  where 
the  French  army  was,  or  whether  a  French  army 
existed? 

It  was  not  until  a  few  days  later,  after  the  victory  of 
the  Marne,  that  we  understood  General  Joffre's 
wonderful  manoeuvre.  We  will  not  anticipate, 
though,  so  we  must  return  to  Laon. 


The  Retreat  of  Namur  105 

We  stayed  there  two  days  and  we  took  advantage  of 
this  time  for  reorganising  our  column. 

The  cannons  and  waggons  of  the  old  pattern  were 
packed  and  sent  to  the  south  of  France;  the  horses 
were  divided  among  the  existing  units,  and  all  the  men 
we  did  not  need  were  sent  to  Rouen.  In  this  way, 
we  formed  a  column  of  Cavalry,  Artillery,  Gendar- 
merie, and  accessory  services. 

I  was  no  longer  in  command,  but,  as  there  was  a 
question  of  taking  part  in  the  operations  of  the  French 
army,  I  did  not  like  the  idea  of  being  sent  to  a  depot. 

I  asked  for  a  place  now  vacant  as  Deputy  Com- 
mander of  a  group  and  I  was  fortunate  enough  to 
obtain  It. 

We  left  Laon  rather  suddenly  and  went  in  the 
direction  of  Soissons.  In  my  new  function,  I  had  to 
form  the  vanguard.  With  a  few  others,  I  would  arrive 
unexpectedly  in  the  villages,  where  our  foreign  uni- 
forms generally  created  alarm,  as  we  were  taken  for 
German  patrols. 

In  order  to  avoid  mistakes,  I  used  to  send  a  horse- 
man on  in  front  to  announce  the  arrival  of  friends. 

The  astrakhan  talpack  that  I  wore  stu-prised  the  in- 
habitants of  the  villages  and  I  overheard  the  following 
conversation : 

"You  see  the  one  with  a  fur  cap.  He  is  an  officer 
of  the  Russian  vanguard."  Another  person  probably 
better  informed,  with  regard  to  distances,  replied: 

"Impossible,  the  Russians  could  not  be  here  yet." 

It  is  only  fair  to  say  that  all  the  papers  then  were 
announcing,  in  big  letters,  formidable  advances  of  the 
Russian  army. 

The  day  after  leaving  Laon,  we  arrived  at  Sermoise- 
sur-Aisne.     An  English  patrol  was  there,  under  the 


io6  Brave  Belgians 

command  of  an  officer,  who  told  us  that  German 
forces  had  been  signalled  to  the  north  of  the  Aisne. 

Colonel  Iweins,  who  had  already  had  this  informa- 
tion, told  the  English  officer  that  some  squadrons 
had  been  sent  to  reconnoitre  and  that  news  was 
awaited  before  authorising  a  bivouac  there.  He 
added  that  he  would  send  an  officer  with  the  informa- 
tion he  received  to  the  English  General  then  at  Sois- 
sons.  As  I  acted  as  interpreter  and  arrived  with  the 
vanguard,  Colonel  Iweins  entrusted  me  with  this 
mission. 

He  told  me,  too,  that  the  detachment  that  he 
commanded  was  to  start  the  following  day  by  rail 
from  Soissons.  I  was  entrusted  with  the  reconnais- 
sance of  the  station  and  was  to  wait  there  for  his 
arrival. 

The  squadrons  soon  returned  without  having  any- 
thing special  to  report.  The  bivouac  was  therefore 
organised  and  I  started.  I  was  delighted  at  having 
this  mission  as,  when  I  had  accomplished  it,  I  should 
be  able  to  dine  on  something  else  than  rabbit,  which 
had  been  our  food  for  several  days,  and  I  should  also 
have  a  good  hotel  bed  instead  of  sleeping  on  straw 
at  the  bivouac. 

I  was  accompanied  only  by  my  orderly  and,  with 
a  light  heart,  smoking  a  cigarette,  I  arrived  in  Sois- 
sons after  an  enjoyable  ride.  It  was  just  getting 
dark.  There  was  not  a  person  in  the  street,  and  a 
death-like  silence  prevailed.  I  wondered  what  this 
meant? 

Finally,  I  met  an  English  cycling  platoon.  The 
officer  in  command  informed  me  that  the  Germans 
were  at  the  gates  of  the  town,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Aisne. 


The  Retreat  of  Namur  107 

"Surely,"  I  said,  "there  must  be  some  mistake,  as 
there  is  an  English  General  at  Soissons." 

"We  beat  a  retreat  in  a  south-westerly  direction," 
replied  the  officer,  "and  we  form  the  extreme  left 
rear." 

I  went  at  once  to  the  station  and  found  that  all  the 
rolling  stock  had  been  removed.  After  some  time,  I 
found  one  of  the  station  officials. 

"  Have  you  been  informed  that  some  Belgian  troops 
are  coming  to  Soissons  to-morrow  to  take  the  train? "  I 
asked.  "To-morrow!"  exclaimed  the  man,  in  amaze- 
ment. "Why,  the  Boches  are  there,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river.  The  station  has  been  evacuated 
and  .  .  ." 

I  did  not  stay  to  hear  the  end  of  his  sentence,  but 
rushed  off  to  the  Prefecture  of  police,  where  I  was 
assured  that  the  German  vanguards  were  quite  near 
the  town. 

"But  surely  there  must  be  some  military  authority 
here  in  Soissons!"  I  said. 

"Perhaps  you  may  find  the  Commander  of  arms. 
He  lives  at  the  house  with  the  stone  steps,  in  the  first 
street  to  the  left." 

I  went  there  and  found  him. 

"Colonel,"  I  said,  "I  have  just  come  from  Sermoise 
and  have  a  communication  for  an  English  General 
whom  I  expected  to  find  here.  I  am  also  to  make 
arrangements  for  some  Belgian  troops  to  take  the 
train  from  here  to-morrow." 

"But,  are  you  not  aware  that  the  Germans  may 
enter  the  town  from  one  minute  to  another? "  he  asked. 
"I  have  given  orders  for  the  bridges  to  be  blown 
up  as  soon  as  they  are  in  sight,  and  immediately 
after  that  I  am  starting  for  Rheims.     The  English 


'io8  Brave  Belgians 

Headquarters  have  been  transferred,  to-day,  about 
ten  miles  away.  I  should  advise  you  to  take  your 
communication  there  and  to  stay  there  yourself. 
The  road  is  not  safe.  ..." 

At  that  very  moment,  I  heard  some  loud  explosions. 
The  Aisne  bridges  had  been  blown  up. 

"All  revoir,"  said  the  Colonel,  getting  into  his 
motor-car,  "and  good  luck!" 

I  remained  there  a  moment  half  dazed.  The 
communication  I  had  was  worthless,  and  dangerous 
too,  as  it  gave  wrong  information. 

The  only  thing  that  remained  was  to  ride,  at  full 
speed,  back  to  Sermoise  and  warn  my  chief  there  of 
the  danger  that  threatened  us. 

An  hour  later,  I  arrived  there  breathless.  Colonel 
Iweins  was  dictating  his  instructions  for  the  journey 
of  the  following  day.  I  informed  him  immediately  of 
what  I  had  learnt  at  Soissons. 

The  bivouac  was  at  once  broken  up  and  Major 
Joostens  set  out  in  his  motor-car  to  get  instructions 
from  the  French  Headquarters.  He  returned  soon 
after  with  orders  to  start  immediately  for  Chateau- 
Thierry. 

The  main  road  from  Sermoise  to  Chateau-Thierry 
passes  through  Soissons.  There  is  another  way,  but 
it  is  not  practicable  for  artillery,  and  it  would  have 
caused  us  delay  at  a  time  when  every  moment  was 
precious. 

Colonel  Iweins  decided  to  send  his  horsemen  to 
guard  the  passages  of  the  Aisne.  During  that  time 
the  batteries  and  the  vehicles  with  the  accessories 
were  to  gallop  through  Soissons.  The  squadrons 
were  to  fall  back  and  they  would  thus  be  able  to 
protect  the  retreat. 


The  Retreat  of  Namur  109 

This  plan  was  carried  out  and  only  just  in  time. 
The  gendarmerie  waggon,  which  was  a  little  behind, 
was  attacked  and  captured  by  the  Germans. 

On  the  Chateau-Thierry  road,  I  saw  once  more  the 
same  scenes  of  desolation  that  I  had  already  witnessed 
in  Belgium:  I  mean  the  exodus  of  the  population. 
Crowds  of  people  and  of  animals,  all  hurrying  along 
and  knocking  against  each  other;  vehicles  colliding 
with  each  other  and  barring  the  road,  as  the  drivers, 
in  their  mad  hurry  to  escape,  blocked  the  way  and 
increased  the  confusion.  The  most  heart-rending 
of  all  the  miseries  of  war  are  those  which  afflict  the 
weak  and  unoffending. 

On  this  long  journey,  I  came  across  Belgian  families 
from  Hainault,  who  had  been  driven  out  of  their 
peaceful  villages  by  the  barbarians,  and  had  been 
wandering  for  weeks.  Wherever  they  had  found 
a  temporary  refuge,  they  had  been  once  more  hunted 
out,  and  they  were  now  going  along,  resigned  to  their 
fate,  towards  the  unknown.  When  would  the  hour  of 
deliverance  ring  out  for  them  and  for  all  of  us? 

We  stopped  a  night  at  Chateau-Thierry,  and  the 
following  day  our  column  was  divided;  one  detach- 
ment went  in  the  direction  of  Coulommiers  and  the 
other  in  the  direction  of  La  Ferte-Gaucher. 

I  was  with  the  latter  detachment,  under  the  com- 
mand of  Major  Capilion,  and,  as  usual,  I  was  responsi- 
ble for  the  vanguard.  The  batteries  arrived  at  our 
halting-place  rather  late,  and  it  was  dark  when  the 
installation  was  finished. 

I  was  very  tired,  and  was  just  going  to  rest  for  a 
time,  when  I  was  informed  that  the  two  detachments 
were  to  start  for  Havre,  by  rail,  the  following  day. 
Further  orders  were  to  be  given  us  later  on. 


no  Brave  Belgians 

When  everyone  was  lying  down,  before  going  to 
rest  myself,  I  decided  to  go  as  far  as  the  station.  It 
was  as  though  I  had  a  presentiment,  for,  on  arriving 
there,  at  ten  o'clock  exactly,  I  found  the  station- 
master  at  the  telephone.  What  I  heard  startled  me. 
The  Germans  were  at  Chateau-Thierry.  We  had 
left  there  in  the  morning  and  they  had  arrived  in  the 
afternoon.  They  had  bombarded  the  station,  left 
the  town,  and  were  on  the  way  towards  Coulommiers 
and  La  Ferte-Gaucher. 

I  rushed  to  the  telephone  and  asked  for  communica- 
tion with  Coulommiers.  I  told  them  to  fetch  an 
officer.     Major  Joostens  was  soon  there. 

"Do  you  know  that  Chateau-Thierry  has  been 
occupied  to-day  by  the  Germans,  and  that  they  have 
now  left  the  town?"  I  said. 

"What  are  you  telling  me?"  he  replied.  "It  is 
impossible.  We  have  come  fifty  miles  from  Soissons 
and  an  army  cannot  go  along  at  that  rate." 

"  It  is  a  fact  nevertheless.  Make  enqtdries  at  once, 
as  we  run  the  risk  of  being  taken." 

"Wait  there,  I  will  telephone  to  you  as  soon  as 
I  get  any  information." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  Major  Joostens  con- 
firmed what  I  had  told  him  and  informed  me  that 
he  was  having  trains  sent  immediately  to  La  Ferte- 
Gaucher.  He  told  me  to  give  the  alarm  and  to 
commence  embarking  the  troops  during  the  night. 

Never,  I  imagine,  has  any  man  alone,  made  as  much 
noise  in  the  night  as  I  did  that  night  at  La  Ferte- 
Gaucher.  Thinking  that  we  were  far  enough  away 
from  the  enemy,  our  lodgings  were  separated  from 
each  other,  from  one  end  of  the  town  to  the  other.  For 
the  first  time  for  a  month,  each  man  had  a  bed.     It 


The  Retreat  of  Namur  iii 

can  readily  be  imagined  that  it  was  no  easy  task  to 
wake  everyone  up. 

At  half-past  twelve,  the  first  battery  arrived  at  the 
station,  and  the  embarking  of  the  troops  commenced 
immediately.  On  account  of  various  faulty  installa- 
tions, it  took  a  considerable  amount  of  time.  At 
mid-day,  our  scouts  informed  us  of  the  approach 
of  the  Germans.  We  were  prepared  to  evacuate  by 
road  what  we  could  not  send  by  rail,  but  fortunately 
this  was  not  necessary,  as  the  enemy  halted  a  few 
miles  away  from  La  Fert6-Gaucher. 

The  command  of  the  last  contingent  was  given  to 
me.  At  four  o'clock,  all  the  waggons  were  on  the 
trucks.  I  then  embarked  the  Gendarmerie  Platoon, 
which  served  as  my  support,  and  the  train  started. 

It  was  an  immense  relief  to  me  when  we  were  once 
on  the  way,  as  we  then  knew  that  we  should  be  able  to 
join  the  Belgian  army,  and  do  our  share  towards 
defending  our  country. 

Coulommiers  and  La  Fert^-Gaucher  were,  as  every- 
one knows,  the  extreme  points  reached  on  French  soil 
by  the  German  invasion. 

From  Havre,  we  went  by  boat  to  Zeebrugge  and 
from  Zeebrugge  to  Antwerp  by  rail.  We  found 
our  Infantry  Regiments  there,  as  they  had  preceded 
us.  The  4th  Division  was  re-formed  and  it  contributed 
gloriously,  later  on,  to  the  defence  of  Antwerp  and  the 
Yser. 

I  dedicate  these  pages  to  the  soldiers  who  were 
under  me  during  this  period  of  the  war.  They  were 
composed  of  men  of  the  oldest  classes  (the  14th  and 
15th)  and  of  young  volunteers.  All  of  them  behaved 
with  the  greatest  courage. 

Several  weeks  after  the  events  I  have  just  related, 


112  Brave  Belgians 

when  I  was  no  longer  the  direct  chief  of  these  brave 
soldiers,  I  received  from  them  the  following  letter, 
which  moved  me  to  tears.  It  is  a  letter  which  I  shall 
ever  keep  as  my  most  treasured  recompense: 

"ViEux  DiEU  (Fort  4), 
"21.9. 14. 

"To  OUR  Commander  Paulis: 

"The  sub-officers  of  your  old  group  beg  you  to 
accept,  in  their  name  and  in  the  name  of  all  the 
Brigadiers  and  Privates  who  have  been  under  your 
orders,  their  respectful  homage  and  the  assirrance  of 
their  sincerest  feelings  of  gratitude,  in  remembrance 
of  the  way  you  led  them  under  fire,  and  saved  them 
during  the  retreats  from  Liege  and  Namur. 

"Rest  assured,  Commander,  that  you  will  never, 
never  be  forgotten  by  us,  and  that  your  name  will 
ever  be  included  in  our  ardent  wishes  for  the  welfare 
of  our  King,  our  Country  and  otu:  families." 

[Here  follow  the  signatures.] 
"Pervyse,  October  15,  1915." 


CHAPTER  XII 
Death  of  Corporal  Tresignies 

From  the  Account  Given  by  First  Sergeant-Major of 

THE  2ND  Regiment  of  Unmounted  Chasseurs 

On  the  20th  of  August,  the  Belgian  army,  supported  by  the 
line  of  the  Antwerp  Forts,  took  position  on  the  Rupel  and  the 
Nethe.  In  front  of  it,  the  3rd  and  9th  German  Corps  were 
quartered.  On  learning  that  violent  fighting  was  going  on  on  the 
Sambre  and  in  the  direction  of  Mons,  a  sortie  was  decided  upon  for 
the  25th  and  26th  of  August.  The  6th  Division  took  Hofstade 
and  the  Schiplaeken  Woods.  The  ist  and  5th  Divisions  took 
Sempst,  Weerde,  and  Eppeghem ;  but,  on  the  left  wing,  the  2nd 
Division  could  not  gain  the  left  bank  of  the  Louvain  canal  and,  in 
the  centre,  the  6th  Division  could  not  occupy  Elewyt.  The 
army,  therefore,  returned  to  the  retrenched  camp. 

On  the  26th  of  August,  1914,  towards  nine  in  the 
morning,  a  platoon  of  the  2nd  Unmounted  Chasseurs, 

under   the   command   of    First    Sergeant-Major 

occupied  a  trench,  constructed  by  the  Germans,  at 
Pont-Brule,  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Willebroeck 
Canal.  A  continual  rain  of  balls  from  the  enemy's 
lines  soon  made  the  position  impossible,  even  for 
otir  men  who  were  firing  as  they  lay  on  the  ground. 
There  was  no  retreat  possible.  It  was  necessary,  there- 
fore, at  all  costs,  to  cross  the  canal.  There  was  a 
bridge  only  a  few  yards  away,  but  its  platform  was 
8  113 


114  Brave  Belgians 

raised  and  the  crank  of  the  windlass  was  on  the 
opposite  bank. 

The  Sergeant  attempted  to  construct  a  raft,  but 
this  was  almost  impossible,  as  the  necessary  material 
was  lacking  and  the  enemy's  firing  was  too  frequent 
and  violent.     He  was  compelled  to  give  up  this  idea. 

"A  good  swimmer  who  will  volunteer  to  cross  the 
canal!"  he  cried  out. 

"Present!"  replied  Private  Trdsignies,  getting  up 
from  the  ground. 

"It  is  to  go  and  lower  the  bridge,  my  boy." 

"Right,  Sergeant." 

Quite  tranquilly,  Tresignies  wrote  on  a  slip  of  paper 
the  following  words  for  his  wife:  "Adieu,  it  is  for  the 
King."  He  handed  the  message  to  his  officer,  slipped 
off  his  clothes,  and  sprang  into  the  water. 

Whilst  he  was  swimming,  the  Sergeant  called  out  to 
him:  "Tresignies,  in  the  name  of  the  Colonel,  I 
appoint  you  Corporal." 

Tresignies  smiled  in  answer  to  the  words,  crossed 
the  canal,  reached  the  other  bank,  climbed  on  to  the 
abutment  of  the  bridge,  and  seized  the  crank.  He 
first  turned  it  the  wrong  way,  raising  the  bridge  still 
higher,  but,  on  seeing  his  mistake,  he  turned  it  the 
opposite  way.  The  bridge  slowly  descended.  The 
man's  tall  figiire  stood  out  against  the  horizon,  looking 
like  an  antique  statue.  The  firing  from  all  sides  was 
now  aimed  at  him.  His  thighs  and  his  arms  were 
hit.  The  blood  spurted  from  his  wounds  and  ran 
down  his  body.  He  continued  turning,  as  though 
nothing  had  happened,  determined  to  accomplish  his 
work  of  deliverance.  He  went  on  turning  and  turning 
until  his  heart  was  pierced  and  he  fell  down  on  the 
blue  stone.     After  a  few  nervous  twitches,  his  body  re- 


Death  of  Corporal  Tresignies      115 

mained  still  and  lifeless,  the  head  hanging  down.  .  .  . 

In  remembrance  of  this  hero,  the  Municipal  Council 
of  Antwerp  decided  that  one  of  the  streets  of  the 
capital  should  be  named  after  Corporal  Tresignies, 
and  that  a  subscription  should  be  opened  for  the 
benefit  of  his  widow  and  two  children. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

The  First  Attack  of  the  Retrenched  Camp 
^of  Antwerp 

(September  4,  19 14) 

By  Father  H^nusse,  S.  J.,  Army  Chaplain  to  the  84TH 
Artillery  Battery 

On  that  day,  the  Staff  of  the  5th  Division  had 
decided  on  an  offensive  reconnaissance,  starting  from 
Willebroeck  and  going  towards  Lippeloo.  Towards  7 
in  the  morning,  we  heard  that  the  Germans  had  arrived 
in  force  at  Breendonck.  Commandant  C trans- 
mitted this  information  to  the  Staff,  who,  no  doubt, 
gave  orders  to  the  Cavalry  to  verify  the  information, 
as  the  hour  fixed  for  our  departure  passed,  and  we  were 
still  there  for  a  long  time  afterwards.  The  foot- 
soldiers  were  yawning  behind  their  piled  arms  and  the 
gunners  were  strolling  about  near  the  cannons. 

Towards  10  o'clock,  the  order  finally  arrived  for  us 
to  start,  but  the  itinerary  was  modified.  We  were  to 
go  by  way  of  Sauvegarde  and  Pullaer,  instead  of 
leaving  Willebroeck  along  the  network  of  barbed 
wire. 

The  column  set  out.  The  i6th  Brigade  of  mixed 
forces  advanced  along  the  narrow  road  which  is  the 

116 


First  Attack  on  Retrenched  Camp  117 

ordinary  way  to  the  line  of  forts.  Towards  12.30, 
it  was  preparing  to  take  up  a  position,  when  suddenly, 
four  detonations  were  heard  and  four  shrapnels 
exploded  in  front  of  the  Artillery,  just  near  the  Com- 
mander of  the  group,  who  saw  his  cyclist  hit,  his  men 
wounded,  and  horses  either  fall  or  take  fright. 

The  astonishment  was  so  great,  that  a  slight  confu- 
sion ensued.  An  explanation  was  almost  as  quickly 
obtained.  The  enemy  was  making  a  sudden  attack  on 
the  double  interval,  Breendonck-Letterheide-Liezele. 
An  order  was  immediately  given  to  the  Artillery  to 
occupy  the  positions  organised  for  the  defence  of  the 
said  intervals.  The  84th  Battery  had  its  Sector 
limited  by  the  canal  of  Willebroeck  and  Breendonck, 
the  83rd  the  Sector  comprised  between  Breendonck 
and  Letterheide-Liezele,  and  the  82nd  the  Sector 
Letterheide-Liezele. 

"Wheel  round!"  was  the  command  given  and,  on 
the  narrow  road,  the  wheel  round  took  place  in  perfect 
order. 

Whilst  the  batteries  were  going  to  their  positions, 
the  Commanders  went  just  as  quickly  to  their  observa- 
tion posts.  That  of  the  Commander  of  the  83rd  was 
an  extraordinary  post.  Between  two  poplars,  a 
platform,  eight  yards  high,  had  been  made,  protected 
by  a  shield.  It  was  reached  by  a  huge  ladder  and 
was  big  and  strong,  as  was  necessary  for  the  man  who 
was  to  use  it.  When  he  reached  it,  the  balls  were 
already  whizzing  from  all  sides  and  the  huge  shrapnels 
were  bursting  above  the  Forts.  It  was  evident  that 
the  Germans  had  begun  the  attack  with  their  masses, 
without  waiting  for  the  preliminary  artillery  prepara- 
tion. 

The  Commander  climbed  quickly  on  to  his  perch 


ii8  Brave  Belgians 

and  began  scrutinising  the  horizon  with  his  field- 
glasses.  In  the  direction  of  Breendonck,  the  firing 
range  had  been  cleared  for  about  eight  hundred  yards 
in  advance  of  the  line  of  Forts.  All  the  houses  but 
one  had  been  destroyed.  Farther  away,  in  the 
background,  there  were  isolated  farms,  the  roads 
leading  to  the  village,  mills,  and  clusters  of  trees;  in  the 
foreground,  immense  fields  of  asparagus  a  yard  high. 

Suddenly,  a  movement  was  to  be  seen  on  the  road 
leading  from  the  village.  An  enemy  colimm  was 
advancing  there.  It  broke  up  into  little  groups,  in 
order  to  reach  sheltered  places.  This  was  just  the 
moment  to  seize  the  telephone  and  order  a  quick 
fire  from  the  battery  1700  yards  in  the  rear.  Un- 
fortunately, the  telephone  had  been  taken  off  on 
account  of  the  reconnaissance  that  morning,  and 
torture  now  began  for  the  unfortunate  Commander. 

To  have  a  mass  of  several  thousand  men  in  front  of 
him  and,  there,  behind  him,  the  four  fire-spitters  which 
could  sow  death  and  carnage  among  that  mass,  and 
not  be  able  to  make  a  sign  to  them,  not  be 
able  to  transmit  the  order!  Tantalus  had  nothing 
like  this  to  endure!  The  Commander's  eyes  were 
fixed  first  on  the  advancing  enemy,  and  then  on  the 
plain  where  the  telephonists  ought  to  be  unrolling  the 
wire,  the  precious  wire.  .  .  .  He  could  see  nothing 
but  the  green  grass  and  the  sunshine.  .  .  . 

Finally,  he  could  stand  it  no  longer  and  he  clam- 
bered down  from  his  observatory,  saluted  by  a  volley 
of  balls,  which  only  did  harm  to  the  poplar  branches. 
He  rushed  to  his  horse,  which  was  hidden  in  the  little 
wood  at  the  back  and  rode  at  full  speed  in  the  direction 
of  the  telephonists.  As  soon  as  they  appeared,  he 
gave  his  orders  in  feverish  haste  and  returned,  at  the 


First  Attack  on  Retrenched  Camp  119 

same  rapid  pace,  to  his  observatory.  The  question 
now  was  would  he  reach  the  top  of  the  ladder  or  not  ? 
The  balls  came  whizzing  along,  hitting  the  steps  of  the 
huge  ladder.  One,  two,  three,  and  he  sprang  on  to  it 
and  began  to  mount.  With  a  thrill  of  anguish,  he 
continued  his  way  until,  at  last,  he  was  once  more 
at  his  post.  This  time,  though,  he  flung  himself 
down  full  length  on  his  platform  to  look  through  his 
field-glasses  at  the  horizon.  The  changes  he  now  saw 
were  that  the  enemy  columns  were  advancing,  in 
close  rank,  behind  the  isolated  farms  and  behind  the 
mills.  In  the  foreground,  sharp-shooters  were  gliding 
and  crawling  towards  the  asparagus  fields.  Hundreds 
of  men  were  already  hidden  there.  He  felt  sure  of 
that. 

The  Commander  was  furious.  He  remembered 
a  certain  shooting-party,  when  he  had  had  a  magnifi- 
cent animal  within  his  range  and  it  had  made  straight 
for  his  neighbour's  vicinity,  thus  preventing  him 
from  shooting  ,  for  fear  of  hitting  his  fellow  huntsman. 

It  was  certainly  his  fate  to  play  the  part  of  Tantalus. 
He  wondered  why  the  telephonists  did  not  arrive,  and 
whether  the  poor  wretches  had  been  shot  down? 
Finally,  he  caught  sight  of  them  crossing  the  railroad, 
five  hundred  yards  away.  He  hoped  they  would 
stoop  down,  and  crawl  if  necessary,  for  the  balls  were 
whizzing  along  all  the  time.  In  the  meantime,  the 
Commander  took  his  measures,  noted  the  distances 
on  the  map,  and  revelled  in  advance  at  the  thought  of 
massacring  the  most  odious  enemies  that  ever  existed, 
and  cutting  short  their  triumph  in  this  sudden  attack, 
which  they  fancied  they  were  carrying  out  so  well. 
The  minutes  seemed  endlessly  long;  his  blood  was 
boiling  and  beating  in  his  heart  and  brain.  .  .  . 


120  Brave  Belgians 

Finally,  the  telephonists  were  at  the  foot  of  the 
ladder,  the  communication  was  once  more  set  up  and 
the  first  command  sent  like  lightning.  A  few  seconds 
passed,  and  the  reply  was  there.  Four  rapid  shrapnels 
burst  above  the  asparagus,  just  at  the  right  height, 
and  now,  quick,  quick,  and  rapid  firing! 

The  storm  continued  pouring  down  on  the  fields 
where  the  Boches  were  crouching  and,  through  his 
field-glasses,  the  Commander  could  see  hideous  things 
flying  in  the  air:  arms,  legs,  and  helmeted  heads. 
At  the  same  time  as  his  orders,  the  telephone  com- 
municated to  the  battery  the  result  of  the  firing,  and 
the  gunners  imagined  that  they  saw  with  their  eyes 
the  magnificent  work  of  death.  This  excited  them 
and,  in  glee,  they  continued  their  work  with  enthusiasm 
and  speed. 

After  the  asparagus  fields,  they  attacked  the  farms. 
The  shells  fell  there  like  thunderbolts  and  fires  broke 
out  everywhere.  In  spite  of  all  this,  the  balls  con- 
tinued to  whizz  round  the  observator3^  It  was  very 
evident  that  there  were  some  men  hidden  who  were 
shooting  desperately.  The  Commander  searched 
everywhere  and  concluded  that  they  were  in  the  one 
house  still  standing,  the  one  house  that  the  engineers 
had  not  destroyed.  It  was  situated  on  the  road  from 
Breendonck  to  Lippeloo  and  within  the  last  two  hours 
it  had  been  suddenly  loopholed.  What  was  to  be  done  ? 
It  was  too  small  a  building  to  constitute  an  objective 
for  indirect  aim,  and  consequently  it  would  have  been 
useless  to  inform  the  battery.  The  Breendonck 
Fort,  though,  could  knock  it  down  directly. 

It  was  the  telephonist  who  thought  of  this  and 
suggested  his  idea  to  the  Commander,  who  had  been 
obliged  to  come  down  once  more  from  his  perch,  as  it 


First  Attack  on  Retrenched  Camp  121 

was  impossible  to  remain  there.  The  idea  was  good, 
but  the  question  was  how  to  communicate  with  the 
Fort?  It  was  more  than  eight  hundred  yards  away, 
and  there  was  almost  entirely  open  ground  between 
them.  The  telephonist  started  off  on  his  own  account 
and,  less  than  ten  minutes  later,  the  Fort  opened  fire 
on  the  house.  With  the  third  shell,  it  was  flaming 
like  a  huge  torch,  after  which  it  fell,  sending  an 
immense  bouquet  of  sparks  up  into  the  air.  .  .  .  The 
Commander  once  more  went  back  to  his  observation 
post,  but  the  fete  was  over. 

The  roads  were  deserted;  the  asparagus  plants  on 
which  he  turned  his  glasses  were  quite  still ;  the  farms 
were  smoking  and  the  rumbling  of  the  cannon  could 
only  be  heard  dying  away  in  the  distance.  Over 
yonder,  beyond  the  village  of  Breendonck,  the  dis- 
orderly retreat  of  the  Boches  could  be  imagined, 
saving  their  cannons,  dragging  along  their  wounded, 
and  hastening  to  hide  their  disgrace. 

After  that  our  reconnaissances  and  our  ambulances 
came  out,  and  the  sad  and  glorious  balance  sheet  of 
the  day's  work  was  gradually  made  out. 

The  next  day  we  found  that,  in  the  asparagus  fields, 
1 100  German  identification  plaques  had  been  gathered. 

The  Commander,  whom  everyone  was  congratulat- 
ing, grasped  the  hands  of  the  two  soldier-telephonists 
and  said  to  them:  "And  all  this,  thanks  to  you,  my 
brave  fellows ! " 


CHAPTER  XIV 
The  Re-Taking  of  Aerschot 

By  Sub-Lieutenant  Ch.  Dendale  of  the  7th  Line  Regiment 

On  the  7th  and  8th  of  September,  the  diminution  of  the  forces 
besieging  Antwerp  was  known  at  Headquarters  and  a  sortie, 
with  all  the  troops  of  the  fighting  army,  was  decided  upon,  either 
to  inflict  a  defeat  on  the  enemy,  or  to  obHge  the  Germans  to 
bring  back,  towards  Antwerp,  some  of  the  forces  now  on  the  way 
to  France.  The  sortie  commenced  on  the  9th  of  September  and 
began  favourably. 

On  the  9th,  the  passages  of  the  D^mer  and  of  the  Dyle  were 
conquered  and  Aerschot  was  taken.  On  the  loth,  a  platoon  of  the 
2nd  Mounted  Chasseurs  entered  Louvain,  but  the  2nd  Division 
was  stopped  at  Wygmael  and  at  Putkapel.  The  enemy  brought 
back  the  6th  Division  of  Reservists  who  were  then  marching  to 
France.  On  the  1 1  th,  the  3rd  Division  succeeded  in  an  offensive 
on  Over  de  Vaart  and  the  6th  Division  reached  the  railway  from 
Malines  to  Louvain.  On  the  12th,  it  was  the  enemy's  turn  to 
take  the  offensive  and  drive  back  the  2nd  Division  at  Rotselaer 
and  Wesemael.  This  retreat  drew  with  it  the  6th  Division  and 
then  the  3rd  Division,  and  on  the  13th  the  army  fell  back  towards 
the  retrenched  camp.  The  chief  object  was  nevertheless  at- 
tained. The  adversary  had  been  obliged,  not  only  to  bring  back 
to  the  Belgian  front  the  6th  Division  of  the  3rd  Corps,  but  also  to 
delay  the  march  of  the  9th  Corps  towards  France  for  two  days, 
at  the  precise  moment  when  the  German  armies,  in  effecting  their 
retreat  on  the  Marnc,  had  the  most  urgent  need  of  reinforcements. 

This  is  not  an  account  of  a  particularly  glorious  feat 
of  arms,  but  merely  a  statement  of  impressions  during 

122 


The  Re-Taking  of  Aerschot       123 

a  combat  which,  although  it  was  less  murderous  than 
any  other  in  which  I  took  part,  left  the  most  vivid 
impression  on  my  mind. 

During  the  second  sortie  from  Antwerp,  the  27th 
Regiment,  which  landed  at  Heyst-op-den-Berg  during 
the  night  of  the  8th  and  9th  of  September,  received  as 
its  first  objective:  Aerschot.  All  along  our  road  we 
could  see  the  ruins  of  the  dwellings  which  had  been 
destroyed  by  fire  by  the  Germans.  These  ruins  stood 
out  clearly  and  lamentably  against  the  blue  sky. 
From  the  debris,  which  were  still  smoking,  a  special, 
bitter  odour  emanated,  which  choked  and  suffocated 
us,  giving  us  an  indescribable  sensation.  We  did  not 
dare  stir  the  ashes,  for  fear  of  exposing  to  view  the 
calcinated  remains  of  the  martyrs  who  had  been 
burned,  \vith  all  they  possessed,  on  the  bit  of  land 
where  they  had  been  bom,  and  where  they  had  grown 
up,  struggled,  suffered,  and  where,  with  visions  of 
horror  before  their  eyes,  they  had  died. 

We  approached  the  town  and  the  Boches  had  not 
yet  shown  any  signs  of  life.  Suddenly,  my  attention 
was  drawn  to  a  forage  cap,  the  red  band  of  which 
stood  out  in  contrast  against  the  green  of  the 
meadow.  I  rushed  forward  and  then  stood  still,  deeply 
moved.  The  cap  was  attached  to  a  little  cross,  made  of 
branches,  planted  on  a  small  mound.  This  first  vision 
of  the  anonymous  grave  of  a  brave  man,  who  had  died 
for  the  sake  of  his  country,  gave  me  a  pang  at  my 
heart.  Alas,  how  many  such  tombs  I  have  seen  since 
then !  I  stood  there  thinking,  and  my  thoughts  went 
from  the  hero,  who  had  fallen  in  the  midst  of  life 
and  light,  to  the  poor  old  parents  who  were  trembling 
for  their  son,  to  the  poor  parents  who  would  never 
know  where  their  lad  had  been  buried. 


124  Brave  Belgians 

We  entered  the  town  after  the  vanguard,  which  did 
not  meet  with  any  serious  resistance.  There  were  no 
longer  ruins  just  here  and  there,  but  heaps  and  heaps 
of  them  everywhere.  Nothing  had  escaped  the 
destructive  rage  of  the  invader.  Everything  which 
had  not  been  consumed  by  the  flames  had  been  sac- 
caged.  The  shop  windows  had  been  cleared,  furniture 
destroyed,  glasses  smashed,  clothes  thrown  about  in 
lamentable  heaps.  It  must  have  taken  whole  days 
to  destroy  all  these  things,  with  kicks  of  heavy  boots 
and  with  the  butt  end  of  guns.  And  what  amazed 
us  was  the  number  of  empty  bottles  strewing  the 
ground.  There  must  have  been  "colossal"  drinking 
bouts.  Perhaps  the  soldiers,  in  order  to  carry  out 
their  cruel  task,  had  lacked  courage.  Perhaps  at  the 
bottom  of  their  hearts,  some  sentiments  of  honour 
and  of  probity  had  been  stirred,  and  they  had  had  to 
stifle  all  this  by  drinking  until  they  had  lost  their 
reason. 

Gradually,  a  little  curiosity  mingled  with  our 
emotion.  Silently,  and  with  heavy  hearts,  we  visited 
these  ruins,  exhaustless  and  glorious  relics  of  patriotic 
love  and  virtue.  Everything  here,  from  the  tombs 
down  to  the  very  stones,  proved  that  Belgians  prefer 
death  to  cowardly  submission,  prefer  to  suffer  rather 
than  to  betray  their  word  of  honour.  An  atmosphere 
of  august  sacrifice  sanctified  this  spot. 

Suddenly,  I  uttered  a  cry.  Over  yonder,  on  the 
front  of  a  convent,  a  big  German  flag  was  floating 
insolently  in  the  wind.  I  rushed  forward,  but  the 
soldiers  had  already  preceded  me,  and  the  Colonel 
stamped  on  the  accursed  emblem.  Our  eyes  shone 
with  joy  and  hope.  This  sight  was  a  symbol  to  us. 
We  saw  in  it  German  power  laid  low,  Right  triumphant, 


The  Re-Taking  of  Aerschot       125 

Belgium  delivered,  and  we  were  filled  with  absolute 
confidence.  .  .  . 

Piff !  pafi !  There  was  fighting  going  on  over  yonder 
and  these  detonations  exasperated  us.  We  rushed 
forward  spontaneously  in  a  wild,  disorderly  chase, 
crying  out:     "Long  live  the  King!" 

The  Boches  occupied  the  heights  at  the  other  side 
of  the  town.  They  greeted  our  vanguard  with  a 
violent  firing,  but  fortunately  it  was  badly  aimed. 
Our  Battalion  rushed  to  the  rescue.  Just  as  we  were 
turning  the  corner  of  a  street  and  entering  the  zone 
swept  by  the  firing,  the  first  ranks  hesitated  for  an 
instant.  Then,  and  never  shall  I  forget  that  sight, 
the  standard-bearer  rushed  forward,  holding  oiu*  flag 
high  with  its  three  colours  unfurled. 

Electrified,  the  men  rushed  like  a  whirlwind,  the 
clarions  sounded  the  assault,  and  a  confused  clamour 
rang  out:  "Hurrah,  Hurrah  for  Belgium!"  The 
irresistible  stream  of  our  troopers  gained  the  heights. 
The  men  were  mad  with  fury,  for  the  sight  of  the 
German  atrocities  had  exasperated  them.  They 
hurried  on,  their  hearts  overflowing  with  rage. 

' '  No  prisoners !    No  quarter !  Death  to  the  bandits ! ' ' 

Curses  rang  out  on  all  sides.  The  men's  faces  were 
hard,  savage,  pitiless. 

"They  shall  be  cared  for,  their  wounded!"  I  heard 
someone  say. 

I  turned  round  and  saw  our  doctor.  The  expression 
of  his  eyes  scared  me.  A  veritable  flame  of  hatred 
had  been  lighted  in  all  hearts. 

"Yes,  we  are  ready  for  anything.  No  pity!  No 
conventions.  So  much  the  worse  for  them.  They 
have  brought  it  on  themselves!  It  is  their  punish- 
ment!" 


126  Brave  Belgians 

An  immense  joy  took  possession  of  us  and  transported 
us,  the  joy  of  the  idea  of  snatching  from  the  invader  a 
shred  of  our  national  territory. 

A  pitiful  troop  of  German  prisoners  was  halting  on 
the  road.  The  sun  was  scorching.  Our  men,  stream- 
ing with  perspiration,  grouped  themselves  round  them, 
looking  at  them  curiously.  What  did  I  now  see, 
though?  Was  it  possible?  The  same  soldiers  who 
had  been  intoxicated  with  the  madness  of  carnage, 
with  vengeance  and  hate,  were  now  looking  after  these 
captives.  One  offered  them  cigarettes,  another 
one  coffee  from  his  flask.  Our  "ferocious"  doctor 
was  busy  lavishing  his  care  on  them,  and  dressing 
their  wounds  down  to  the  very  least  scratch. 

Suddenly  calm  again,  on  seeing  the  suffering  of 
others,  we  were  once  more  kind-hearted,  simple 
Belgians,  hospitable  and  compassionate,  according  to 
the  traditions  of  our  race.  Moved  by  pity,  we  were 
doing  our  best  to  relieve  the  sufferings  of  our  wounded 
enemies.  I  looked  on  at  this  poignant  scene  thought- 
fully, and  I  was  seized  with  deep  emotion.  My  eyes 
were  dim  with  tears  and  my  heart  swelled  with  joy, 
with  unutterable  pride,  the  joy  and  the  pride  of  being 
a  Belgian. 

Hotel  Dieu,  Albert  I.  Hospital.     9.  11.  15. 


CHAPTER  XV 
A  Fine  Capture 

By  Staff  Deputy  Captain  Courboin 

September  p,  1914.  Aerschot,  devastated  and 
pillaged  by  the  Germans,  was  retaken  by  Belgian 
troops  composed  of  the  Cavalry  Division  and  the  7th 
Brigade.  Surprised  by  the  rapid  action  of  our  men,  the 
enemy  occupants  made  off,  like  a  band  of  sparrows,  in 
the  direction  of  Louvain.  To  the  south  of  the  town, 
though,  some  detachments,  probably  unaware  of  the 
direction  of  the  retreat,  were  still  holding  out.  Our 
troops  had  gathered  together  on  the  heights  towards 
Nieuw-Rhode  and  were  awaiting  orders.  I  had  left 
my  unit  and  was  walking  along  at  the  border  of  the 
St.  Hertoger  Heyde  Bosch,  when  a  soldier  of  the  27th 
Line  Regiment  told  me  that,  according  to  a  patrol, 
a  horseman  of  the  2nd  Guides  was  lying  wounded  on 
the  road  running  through  the  forest. 

I  asked  for  a  gun  and  some  cartridges  and  proposed 
to  an  army  chaplain  that  he  should  accompany  me. 
Twenty  soldiers  at  once  volunteered  their  services 
and  I  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  limiting  my  escort 
to  a  Corporal  and  six  men. 

Ten  minutes  later,  the  horseman,  who  was  tm- 
fortunately  dead,  was  brought  into  our  lines.  My 
men  had  to  encounter  a  violent  firing,  which  came 
from  the  border  of  the  wood  to  the  south,  proving 

127 


128  Brave  Belgians 

that  there  was  at  least  one  enemy  company  there. 
The  horrors  they  had  seen  at  Aerschot  had  roused  the 
anger  of  our  men,  and  they  beseeched  me  to  return 
to  the  forest  with  a  force  and  avenge  our  unfortunate 
compatriots.  I  could  not  possibly  have  yielded  to 
their  entreaties,  if  an  unforeseen  circumstance  had 
not  more  or  less  justified  our  escapade.  An  auto- 
machine-gun  of  the  1st  Division  of  Cavalry,  which 
was  to  reconnoitre  in  the  direction  of  Nieuw-Rhode 
asked  for  an  escort  of  scouts.  I  offered  the  help  of 
our  little  troop  and,  a  few  minutes  later,  we  were  once 
more  exploring  the  St.  Hertoger  He^-de.  The  woods 
appeared  to  be  deserted,  but,  on  arriving  near  the 
southern  border,  an  intense  firing,  from  the  Nieuw- 
Rhode  summit,  greeted  us.  Our  machine-guns 
replied  with  interest,  whilst  my  men  searched  the 
houses  skirting  the  road,  one  after  another,  and, 
hiding  behind  the  hedges,  were  ready  to  take  aim  at 
any  German  heads  which,  in  a  moment  of  imprudence, 
should  be  outlined  against  the  deep  blue  of  the 
horizon. 

We  bounded  on  until  we  were  within  a  hundred 
yards  from  the  summit.  The  enemy  firing  had 
ceased  and  we  now  saw  about  fifteen  wounded  men 
sheltering  in  a  ditch  and  imploring  our  aid.  We 
wondered  whether  this  could  be  a  trap  for  us?  It  was 
too  late,  though,  for  prudence.  We  had  risked  coming 
two  miles  into  the  enemy's  lines  and  my  men  were 
there,  quivering  with  impatience.  It  was  no  use 
hesitating.  Four  houses  stood  in  the  corners  of  the 
cross-roads  here,  and  these  were  probably  sheltering 
the  wounded  and  those  who  were  trying  to  escape. 
There  was  no  window  looking  out  on  to  the  place 
where  we  stood;  the  gardens  appeared  to  be  empty; 


A  Fine  Capture  129 

one  more  rush  and  wc  should  be  able  to  see  what  was 
going  on  beyond  the  summit.  When  once  we  were 
at  the  top,  I  had  no  time  to  deliberate.  A  horseman, 
who,  I  must  own,  appeared  to  have  lost  control  of  his 
mount,  galloped  towards  me  at  full  speed.  I  shoul- 
dered my  gun  and  .  .  .  the  Boche  bit  the  dust.  The 
terrified  horse  leaped  about  in  the  fields ;  my  men  took 
aim  and  the  machine-gun  seemed  to  start  firing  on  its 
own  accord.  That  moment  of  over-excitement  saved  us. 

The  enemy  thought  we  were  there  in  strong  force. 
A  gun,  covered  with  a  white  handkerchief,  appeared  at  a 
skylight  window.  They  were  surrendering.  I  placed  my- 
self against  the  wall  of  the  house,  so  that  I  might  escape 
any  treacherous  firing  from  the  window  in  the  roof. 

' '  Throw  the  guns  out ! "  I  shouted.  A  gun  fell  on  the 
groimd  at  our  feet,  then  another  and  another.  My 
men  were  wild  with  delight. 

"Twenty  .  .  .  fifty  ...  a  hundred,"  they  counted. 
When  the  hundred  and  sixth  gun  fell  to  the  ground, 
there  was  a  lull  and  a  German  sub-officer  then, 
came  out  to  make  terms  with  us.  In  very  good 
French,  he  asked  that  the  lives  of  the  Lieutenant, 
five  sub-officers,  and  one  hundred  and  six  men,  con- 
cealed in  the  house,  might  be  spared. 

Two  minutes  later,  a  little  troop  of  men  arrayed  in 
iron-grey  and  blue,  were  standing  in  line  on  the  road. 
A  very  Prussian  little  Lieutenant  handed  me  his  pistol, 
which  joined  the  guns  piled  up  in  the  ditch.  My  men 
did  not  seem  to  be  at  all  aware  of  the  strangeness, 
which  was  really  somewhat  alarming,  of  our  situation. 
If  only  our  prisoners  had  had  a  little  energy,  the  roles 
might  have  been  reversed.  I  would  not  allow  myself 
an  instant  even  to  think  of  this  and  I  gave  the  order  to 
my  Boche  colleague  to  take  the  command  of  his  men. 


130  Brave  Belf^^ians 


£>' 


With  incontestable  authority,  tapping  his  high 
boots  with  a  little  stick,  the  Lieutenant  commanded 
in  a  very  arrogant  tone:  "Attention!"  I  wondered 
again  whether,  in  reply  to  one  of  his  injunctions,  given 
in  a  guttural  tone  in  the  German  language,  the  whole 
band  would  not  suddenly  fall  upon  us  and,  instinc- 
tively, I  tightened  my  hold  on  the  butt  end  of  my 
Mauser.  .  .  . 

No,  it  was  very  evident  that  these  soldiers  had  a 
special  mentality.  The  little  dandy,  tightly  buttoned 
up  in  his  grey  coat,  marching  at  the  head  of  his  men, 
seemed  to  me  absolutely  repugnant.  I  knew  that 
our  soldiers,  commanded  by  one  of  our  brave  com- 
rades, would  not  have  remained  long  in  the  situation 
of  this  band  of  cowards.  There  they  were,  out- 
numbering us  ridiculously,  escorted  by  seven  Belgian 
soldiers,  marching  to  our  Headquarters  at  Aerschot. 
Prisoners!     They  were  prisoners  and  .  .  .  happy! 

I  was  just  about  to  fall  in  and  close  the  march  of  this 
column,  after  promising  to  send  help  to  the  wounded, 
who  were  groaning  in  the  ditch  and  calling  out  all  the 
time:  "A  doctor.  A  doctor!"  when  a  big,  rough 
hand  seized  mine  and  shook  it  unceremoniously.  It 
was  Corporal  Dethier,  of  the  27th,  a  brave  miner  of 
Liege. 

"Captain,"  he  whispered,  "we  all  thank  you.  As 
for  me,  I  am  very  glad,  for  I  feel  that  I  have  been  a 
good  soldier  to-day."^ 

'  The  names  of  these  six  brave  men  are:  Massin,  Cyclist 
Company;  De  Sutter,  3/2;  Menu,  3/2;  Le  Kouttre,  2)1 '^^  of  the  7th 
Line  Regiment;  Barthels  and  Sty,  Cyclist  Carabineers  of  the 
1st  Cavalry  Division,  who  were  both  proposed  later  on  for  honor- 
ary distinction ;  Corporal  J.  J.  Dethier,  who  was  wounded  at  the 
Yser  and  had  his  leg  amputated.  He  has  been  made  a  Knight 
of  the  Order  of  Leopold. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

(September  9-12,  1914) 

The  Second  Sortie  from  Antwerp 

Episode  of  the   Battle   before   Over-de-Vaert  (Haecht). 
By  Lieutenant  L.  Chardome  of  the  14TU  Line  Regiment 

I  AM  writing  the  account  of  this  combat  in  bed,  at 
the  Elisabeth  Ambulance,  as  I  am  still  suffering  from 
my  wounds  of  thirteen  months  ago.  I  give  this 
account  without  any  pretension  and  without  any  false 
modesty;  my  only  care  being  to  tell  the  exact  truth. 

It  was  during  the  second  sortie  of  the  Antwerp 
garrison.  My  Company,  the  2nd  Division  of  Hotch- 
kiss  machine-guns  of  the  3rd  Army  Division,  had 
passed  the  night  of  September  11  and  12,  1914, 
along  the  embankment  of  the  Malines-Louvain  rail- 
way line,  five  hundred  yards  from  the  Haecht- Wespe- 
Icarc  station.  At  4  in  the  morning,  we  received 
orders  to  get  into  line  and  go  to  the  support  of  the 
14th  Line  Regiment;  my  men  mounted  the  slope  in 
glee,  and  had  soon  cleared  the  summit.  Very  soon 
the  two  guns  of  my  Section,  the  52nd  and  53rd,  had 
taken  their  place  with  the  sharp-shooters  of  Com- 
mander Magnette's  Company,  supporting  the  last 
Section  of  Infantry  to  the  extreme  left. 

The  sharp-shooters  during  the  night  had  occupied 
131 


132  Brave  Belgians 

a  trench  intended  for  those  who  kneel  and  they  were 
now  busy  making  it  deeper.  To  my  right,  I  could  see 
their  outlines  dimly  through  the  morning  mist.  In 
the  rear  the  15  Howitzers,  placed  beyond  the  railway, 
had  sounded  the  reveille  and  immediately,  three  75 
batteries  of  the  12th  Brigade  took  up  the  firing  on  the 
left.  Towards  8  o'clock,  the  mist  had  entirely  dis- 
appeared and  the  battle-field  could  be  seen.  Our 
losses  were  already  important.  First  Sergeant- 
Major  Carlens,  Chief  of  the  Machine-gun  Section, 
had  been  killed  and  Butjens,  who  served  the  52nd, 
had  been  shot  through  his  thigh.  I  had  reserved  the 
52nd  for  myself  and  I  was  pointing  it.  From  time  to 
time,  I  called  out  to  the  men  who  were  firing  hap- 
hazard: "What  are  you  aiming  at?  Do  not  shoot 
till  you  see  the  enemy."  In  order  to  give  them 
confidence,  however,  I  sent  off  about  thirty  cartridges, 
now  and  then,  towards  spots  that  I  believed  were 
occupied,  as  I  know  how  it  comforts  the  soldier  to 
feel  that  he  is  being  supported  by  the  machine-gun. 

In  front  of  us,  the  firing  continued,  and  the  German 
Maxims  never  ceased  for  an  instant  their  ta-ra-ta-ra- 
ta.  The  question  was,  Where  did  this  firing  come 
from?  It  was  not  until  ten  o'clock  that  I  finally 
caught  sight  of  the  enemy  trenches.  For  six  hours, 
until  then,  I  had  been  searching  the  firing  range 
with  excellent  field-glasses,  and  had  not  been  able 
to  discover  anything.  Suddenly,  a  German  head 
emerged  and  revealed  to  me  the  whole  position. 

"Caught!"  I  said  to  myself  and  I  felt  the  most 
ferocious  joy.  I  could  now  direct  my  firing,  and  Hu- 
bert Massart,  my  orderly,  served  me  as  observer.  I 
succeeded,  with  three  strips  of  thirty  cartridges,  in 
hitting  straight  at  the  parapet  and  the  talus.     I  at 


The  Second  Sortie  from  Antwerp  133 

once  communicated  my  discovery  to  the  Infantry  and 
to  my  53rd  and,  from  that  moment,  our  firing  was 
more  intense,  although  intermittent. 

The  morning  passed  by  without  any  special  incident 
and  I  took  advantage  of  this  for  examining  our  posi- 
tion. In  front  of  us  was  a  glacis  something  like  that  of 
St.  Privat,  but  ten  times  more  dangerous,  considering 
the  power  of  firearms  at  present.  It  was  a  horse- 
shoe of  fire,  skirted  with  long,  low  houses,  and  these 
were  now  full  of  invisible  and  almost  invulnerable 
defenders.  The  background  consisted  of  two  German 
trenches,  separated  by  a  white  house  with  walls  of 
cracked  bricks,  which  served  as  a  shelter  for  legions 
of  Boches.  The  whole  of  the  morning,  the  75  cannons 
and  the  15  Howitzers  were  directed  on  these  houses, 
which,  we  were  told,  were  occupied  by  picked  shooters 
or  by  machine-guns.  Our  gunners  aimed  with 
wonderful  precision,  but  the  shells  went  through  the 
first  wall,  burst  in  the  first  room,  and  left  the  others 
intact.  One  out  of  three  of  our  projectiles  set  fire  to 
something,  which  was  distinctly  better  for  us. 

I  was  installed  behind  the  first  obstacle  of  a  deserted 
German  trench,  slightly  outside  and  in  front  of  our 
line,  which  I  could  flank,  if  necessary,  whilst  meeting 
a  flank  attack.  To  my  left  there  was  a  gap  opposite 
the  Artillery,  but  on  this  side  no  foot-soldier  could 
be  seen. 

At  mid-day,  our  brave  men  suddenly  cleared  the 
parapet  of  their  trench  and  advanced,  crawling  along 
and  firing  all  the  time.  The  line  at  once  supported 
them,  slightly  to  the  right,  and  this  freed  my  two 
machine-guns.  We  advanced,  in  our  turn,  within 
the  fiery  circle,  from  which  we  could  only  come  out 
dead  or  conquerors. 


134  Brave  Belgians 

I  decided  to  leave  the  53rd  to  continue  the  firing 
and  flank  the  attack,  whilst,  making  use  of  the  empty 
Boche  trench,  I  could  go  forward  with  the  52nd  and 
support  the  Infantry. 

"Bring  the  gun,"  I  said  to  Sergeant  Mar^chal; 
"close  the  cartridge  boxes  and  follow  me." 

I  then  set  off  to  reconnoitre  the  road  along  which 
we  had  to  go  and  the  place  to  occupy  for  the  firing. 
I  had  only  to  follow  the  German  trench,  about  two 
hundred  yards  long,  the  end  of  which  I  was  holding. 
When  I  came  to  the  other  end  of  this,  I  saw  that  the 
Infantry  was  advancing  at  a  prodigious  rate,  under  an 
extremely  violent  fire  of  musketry  and  machine-guns. 
To  my  right,  in  front  of  me  just  beyond  a  cross-road, 
was  a  second  Boche  trench  which,  curiously  enough, 
I  had  not  seen.  I  cleared  the  twenty-five  yards  which 
separated  me  from  the  cross-road.  I  then  went  along 
the  ditch  and,  with  a  jump,  reached  the  second  trench. 
I  went  quickly  right  to  the  end  of  it  and  found  that  this 
formed  a  sort  of  hook,  and  that  it  would  be  a  good 
position  for  the  firing.  I  went  quickly  back  to  fetch 
my  men  and  found  they  had  already  reached  the 
cross-road.  Unfortunately  it  was  not  possible  to  free 
the  gun  from  the  trivet  of  the  Hotchkiss  and,  on 
account  of  the  narrowness  of  the  passage,  we  had 
great  difficulty  in  transporting  it.  "We  made  use  of  the 
ditch  along  the  road,  and  then  slipped  into  the  second 
German  trench.  To  the  right,  half  way  along,  I 
caught  sight  of  Corporal  Boreux,  of  the  14th,  out  in 
the  open  field.  He  was  dragging  himself  along  with 
his  legs  bleeding. 

"Can  I  have  my  wounds  dressed.  Lieutenant?"  he 
called  out. 

"Quite   impossible,    my   poor   fellow!"    I   replied. 


The  Second  Sortie  from  Antwerp    135 

"Get  down  into  the  ditch,  and  as  soon  as  the  fight 
is  over,  you  shall  be  seen  to." 

The  brave  foot-soldiers  were  already  at  the  end  of 
the  second  Boche  trench  when  I  arrived  and  installed 
my  gun. 

"Lieutenant,"  said  Mardchal,  "there  is  a  machine- 
gun  firing  on  us." 

He  was  quite  right  for,  from  the  right  of  the  little 
house  opposite  us,  a  German  gun  was  sending  us  its 
messages.  I  pointed  immediately,  at  a  distance  of 
two  hundred  yards,  and  silenced  it  with  the  first  volley. 
Its  role  was  over.  I  then  began  to  pepper  the  Boche 
trenches,  to  the  right  and  left  of  the  little  house.  My 
gun  worked  excellently  well  and  my  men  were  abso- 
lutely calm.  The  brave  fellows  of  the  14th  soon 
passed  by  and  went  farther  on.  In  less  than  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  they  had  cleared  four  hundred  and  fifty 
yards.     The  line  continued  to  support  them. 

"Mardchal,"  I  said,  "I  am  going  to  entrust  you 
with  a  confidential  mission.  Go  and  fetch  the  53rd 
and  bring  it  here." 

I  continued  firing,  thus  neutralising  the  trench  to 
the  right.  Our  Artillery  was  obliged  to  stop  firing  on 
that  side,  but  it  peppered  the  left  part  and  hit  the 
walls  and  the  houses  on  the  main  road  from  Louvain 
to  Malines  with  its  shrapnels. 

The  Germans  had  no  artillery,  which  was  extremely 
fortunate  for  us.  My  53rd  did  not  arrive  though, 
and  I  had  decided  that,  as  soon  as  it  came  to  relieve 
me,  I  would  go  forward  and  join  the  left  wing  of  my 
regiment,  in  order  to  give  these  brave  fellows,  at  any 
cost,  the  comfort  of  the  presence  of  a  machine-gun. 
I  wanted  to  be  with  them  to  the  end.  Fearing  to 
arrive  too  late,  I  decided  to  start. 


136  Brave  Belgians 

"Come  along,  boys,"  I  said,  "the  moment  has 
come  for  the  final  blow.     Forward!" 

I  seized  the  right  foot  of  my  gun,  Massart  the  left 
one. 

Janssens  gave  a  hand,  and  Fraikin  and  Collard 
carried  the  cartridge  cases.  With  a  great  effort,  we 
got  out  of  our  shelter  into  the  open  field.  It  was 
more  than  imprudence,  it  was  almost  foolhardiness. 
My  shooting  had  proved  to  be  very  superior  to  the 
adversary's  though,  and  the  brilliant  attack  had  made 
me  so  hopeful.  We  went  along  about  ten  yards, 
surrounded  by  a  swarm  of  balls.  The  German  trenches 
had  recommenced  firing  right  and  left.  At  a  dis- 
tance of  three  hundred  yards,  their  picked  shots  and 
their  machine-guns  were  aiming  at  us.  Suddenly 
Massart  fell,  stifling  a  cry  of  pain.  We  all  flung  our- 
selves down  on  the  ground.  The  well-known  "kiss, 
kiss,"  was  whistling  through  the  air. 

"Who  is  hit.?"  I  asked.     "Is  it  you,  Hubert?" 

"Yes,  in  the  arm,  Lieutenant." 

The  other  men  crawled  down  into  the  trenches  we 
had  just  left. 

"Lieutenant,  could  I  have  m}'  arm  seen  to?"  asked 
Hubert. 

"Who  is  to  do  it?"  I  said.  "Vile  Boches!  I  will 
pay  them  for  it.  Get  close  to  the  trench,  put  your 
head  against  the  parapet,  and  do  not  stir  from  there." 

The  "kiss,  kiss"  had  ceased,  for  we  were  supposed 
to  be  all  dead,  and  there  were  other  objectives.  I  got 
up  and  once  more  began  firing,  but  I  was  alone  now 
in  the  midst  of  the  fiery  circle.  My  cousin,  Lieu- 
tenant Fernand  Marissal,  who  had  brought  his  guns 
to  my  right,  had  stopped  firing  for  the  only  reason 
possible.     He  had  just  been  killed.     Some  Boches, 


The  Second  Sortie  from  Antwerp  137 

hiding  in  a  house  had  sent  him  a  ball  in  the  head. 
The    sharp-shooters    no    longer    existed,    the    brave 
Commander  Magnette  had  been  killed  at  the  head 
of  them.     I   therefore   had   to   face   three   sides.     I 
commenced  by  imposing   silence   once  more  on  the 
trench  to  the  left,  and  a  ball  grazed  my  right  cheek 
and  nose.  It  was  a  violent  shock  and  my  face  was  all 
bleeding,   but,  fortunately,  my  eyes  were  spared.  I 
continued   shooting  at   the  houses    on  the  right  and 
I  peppered  doors,  windows,  and  roofs.     After  this  I 
aimed  at  the  trench,  which  fired  back  at  me.     I  was 
hit  in  the  right  fore-arm.     A  vein  was  cut,  and  this 
meant  a  considerable  hemorrhage.     I  turned  up  the 
sleeve  of  my  sweater  and  found  my  shirt  quite  red; 
my  fingers  still  worked,  but  with  difficulty.     I  meant 
to  make  the  men  in  hiding,  on  the  main  road,  pay  for 
this.     My  poor  Hubert  had  dragged  himself  along 
to  the  first  trench  and  he  said  to  his  comrades,  who 
were  now  shooting  with  guns:     "What,  do  you  mean 
to  say  that  the  Lieutenant  is  left  alone  to  do  the 
firing?     He  has  been  wounded  twice.     Is  there  no 
one  to  help  him? "     These  were  his  last  words.     Mor- 
tally wounded  as  he  was,   this  hero    used  his  last 
breath  to  exhort  his  comrades  to  do  their  duty. 

Janssens  came  out  of  the  trench  and  charged  my 
machine.  I  was  just  going  to  fire,  when  I  was  hit 
on  the  knee  and  brought  to  the  ground. 

"They  have  broken  my  leg!"  I  said.  It  certainly 
was  in  a  strange  position,  and  I  pulled  it  round  and 
stretched  it  out  in  front  of  me.  I  fired  the  last  strip 
of  cartridges  loaded,  and  all  those  in  the  box  near  me. 
It  was  all  I  could  do.  Janssens  had  returned  to  the 
trench.  I  took  off  my  right  sptu*,  which  was  twisting 
my  broken  leg,  and  lay  down  on  my  back,  with  my 


138  Brave  Belgians 

head  on  my  shako,  and  a  map  on  my  face  to  protect 
me  from  the  heat  of  the  sun.  It  was  12.30.  The  sky 
was  extremely  limpid,  with  whitish  clouds  here  and 
there.  From  time  to  time,  the  crows  flew  slowly  by, 
uttering  their  hoarse  croak. 

"What  are  your  orders.  Lieutenant?"  suddenly 
said  a  voice  near  me. 

It  was  the  brave  Mar^chal,  accompanied  by  Cor- 
poral Treize  and  Private  Van  Herck  of  the  53rd. 

"What  about  the  53rd?"  I  asked. 

"It  won't  work,  Lieutenant." 

"Where  is  it?" 

"We  have  put  it  completely  out  of  use." 

"Is  there  nothing  more  to  be  done  then?" 

"Yes,  we  are  going  to  move  you  from  here,  Lieu- 
tenant," 

"No,  my  boys, "  I  said,  "during  action,  the  wounded 
cannot  be  moved."  I  could  not,  of  course,  accept 
for  myself  what  I  had  refused  twice  for  my  men. 

"Put  the  gun  out  of  use, "  I  said. 

"We  are  going  to  save  it,  Lieutenant." 

Taking  advantage  of  a  lull,  he  and  the  other  two 
seized  the  gun  and  managed  to  drag  it  into  the  trench. 
This  was  a  joy  to  me.  The  assault  had  failed.  The 
first  line  had  been  massacred  and  those  supporting  it 
had  stopped  firing.  Behind  us  and  to  the  right,  the 
Darche  Company,  of  the  14th,  now  occupied  the 
cross-road,  where  my  poor  cousin's  two  guns  had 
been  once  more  brought  into  action.  Farther  on, 
and  to  the  left,  the  Moreau  Company  was  defending 
Magnette's  trench.  The  balls  of  this  Company,  as 
well  as  those  of  the  enemy,  passed  over  my  head. 
Before  going  away  with  my  52nd,  the  good  fellows 
begged  affectionately  to  take  me  away.     I  refused 


The  Second  Sortie  from  Antwerp  139 

categorically,  for,  as  an  officer,  I  wished  to  share  the 
same  fate  as  the  brave  soldiers  who  had  fallen  during 
the  attack.  I  put  an  eighth  cartridge  into  my  Brown- 
ing, determined  to  defend  myself  to  the  end.  Pre- 
sently, I  heard  the  breathing  of  my  poor  Hubert 
Massart  develop  into  the  death  rattle.  A  significant 
crispation  of  the  spine  caused  his  chest  to  swell,  his 
nostrils  were  ominously  drawn.  I  was  present  at 
his  death  and  could  do  nothing. 

As  to  myself,  I  was  happy  and  very  proud.  My 
blood  was  flowing  freely  and  I  had  nothing  with  which 
to  staunch  the  wound.  Fortunately,  my  tight 
breeches  and  my  putties  served  as  a  sort  of  harness 
and,  as  vigorously  as  my  injured  hand  allowed  me,  I 
fastened  the  strap  of  my  field-glasses  round  my  thigh. 

The  combat  continued  intermittently.  At  5.30, 
a  few  Boche  shells  were  still  falling  here  and  there, 
within  the  firing  range.  One  of  them  buried  itself  a 
few  yards  away  from  me  and  the  soil  thrown  up  by  the 
explosion  half  covered  me.  I  determined  to  try  and 
rejoin  the  Darche  Company  and  began  to  drag  myself 
along  on  my  back,  with  the  help  of  my  one  leg  and  my 
elbows,  leaving  behind  me  a  line  of  blood.  From  time 
to  time,  I  lifted  my  arm  to  show  my  rank  to  friends, 
and  I  heard  them  cry  out  distinctly : 

"Take  care,  take  care,  the  Lieutenant!" 

Towards  6.30  I  reached  the  cross-road  and,  by  a 
miracle,  I  managed  to  clear  the  first  ditch.  One  of 
the  sharp-shooters  took  me  by  the  shoulders  when  I 
arrived  at  the  second  one.  He  dragged  me  the  whole 
length  of  the  ditch  to  the  left  of  his  Company.  Cor- 
poral Boreux  and  other  wounded  men  were  there  and 
we  were  then  in  safety. 


CHAPTER  XVn 
The  1st  Regiment  of  Lancers 

By  Staff  Deputy  Colonel  E.  Joostens 

The  operations  of  the  Siege  of  Antwerp  commenced  on  the 
28th  of  September.  The  enemy  bombarded  the  Forts,  the 
resistance  of  which  was  compromised  by  the  firing  of  cannon  of 
42  cm.  At  the  same  time  the  enemy  endeavoured  to  force  the 
Escaut,  between  Termonde  and  Ghent,  with  the  idea  of  cutting 
off  the  retreat  of  the  Belgian  army.  The  river  was  defended  by 
the  4th  Army  Division,  which  was  posted  chiefly  in  the  vicinity 
of  Termonde.  The  ist  Lancers  were  at  the  extreme  right  of  the 
Division.  More  to  the  west,  towards  Wetteren,  the  ist  Division 
of  Cavalry  was  spread  along  the  whole  left  bank  of  the  Dendre. 

The  organisation  of  the  Belgian  army,  when  at 
war,  requires  a  cavalry  regiment  for  every  division. 
Thanks  to  the  hazards  of  this  campaign,  only  the 
1st  and  3rd  Lancers  remained  permanently  with  the 
big  units  to  which  they  were  organically  attached. 

Whilst  the  greater  part  of  the  men  with  our  arm 
expected  to  keep  their  spurs,  which  are  worn  very  high, 
and  were  preparing  their  flourish  of  trumpets,  the  ist 
Lancers,  that  is  the  mounted  ones,  could  not  have 
the  same  pretensions,  as  they  were  destined  to 
share  the  fate  of  the  4th  Army  Division  during  nearly 
all  the  operations.  There  was  plenty  of  good  work  to 
be  done,  nevertheless,  and  from  the  very  commence- 

140 


The  1st  Regiment  of  Lancers      141 

ment,  both  on  the  banks  of  the  Meuse  and  around 
Namur,  our  bold  reconnaissances  proved  the  value 
of  this  arm.  In  the  northern  Sector,  Deputy  Staff 
Major  Lenercier,  at  present  a  brilliant  Colonel  of  the 
5th  Lancers,  took  the  direction  of  the  combats  of 
Boneffe  and  of  the  Sauveniere  Mill.  To  the  south, 
our  regretted  comrade.  Lieutenant  Moreau,  made  a 
most  daring  reconnaissance.  At  the  head  of  two 
platoons,  he  went  as  far  as  Ciney,  which  was  full  of 
Germans.  On  his  return,  his  little  troop  was  com- 
pletely surrounded,  but  the  Lieutenant  was  not  to  be 
intimidated.  He  assailed  his  adversary  and,  thanks 
to  his  own  personal  intervention,  he  saved  the  life,  or 
at  least  the  liberty,  of  one  of  his  comrades,  who  was 
surrounded  by  Uhlans,  just  as  they  were  preparing  to 
do  him  an  evil  turn. 

The  spirit  of  our  mounted  Lancers  is  admirable. 
How  many  of  them  have  given  proof  of  individual 
prowess!  I  well  remember,  among  a  hundred  in- 
stances, that  of  the  gay  trumpeter,  who  had  specialised 
in  htmting  the  Boches.  He  would  start  off  alone  on 
his  hunt,  and  he  was  very  much  cast  down  if  he  did 
not  account  for  two  or  three  in  his  day's  work.  Some- 
times he  would  account  for  about  ten  of  them,  and 
his  eyes  were  brighter  than  usual  on  those  days. 

The  evacuation  of  Namur  took  place  on  the  23rd 
of  August,  and  was  a  difficult  and  sorrowful  retreat. 
The  march  was  long,  the  horses  exhausted,  the  tem- 
perature very  high,  and  the  Uhlans  sometimes  very 
near  indeed,  but  what  did  all  that  matter?  We  had 
to  rejoin  our  fellow-soldiers  with  the  fighting  army. 
And  after  various  incidents  we  reached  Coulommiers 
and  La  Fertd.  From  there  we  went  to  Havre,  and 
had  a  few  days  of  peaceful  life,   in  the  midst  of  a 


142  Brave   Belgians 

population  whose  hospitable  welcome  has  left  grate- 
ful memories  in  our  Belgian  hearts.  Four  steamers 
then  took  us  back  to  our  own  country.  We  had 
time  to  re-equip  ourselves  and,  after  a  few  days  at 
Contich,  we  took  part  in  the  operations  around  the 
retrenched  camp.  There  were  reconnaissances  to  be 
carried  out  to  the  north  of  Malines,  and  in  the  direction 
of  Louvain,  Lippeloo,  etc.  Our  oflEicers  kept  sur- 
passing each  other  in  activity  and  daring,  and  the 
men  were  as  brave  as  their  chiefs. 

At  the  beginning  of  October,  the  besiegers  com- 
menced the  general  attack  of  the  position  organised 
on  the  north  bank  of  the  Nethe.  At  the  same  time, 
they  made  some  attempts  to  force  the  passage  of  the 
Escaut  at  Baesrode,  Termonde,  and  Schoonaerde. 
The  4th  Army  Division  and  the  ist  Cavalry  Division 
stopped  them.  The  role  of  the  ist  Lancers,  at  that 
time,  was  to  send  out  reconnaissances  beyond  Ter- 
monde, to  Gyseghem  and  Audeghem  and  then,  when 
the  enemy  was  too  insistent,  to  ensiire  the  guarding 
of  the  Escaut  and,  if  necessary,  the  defence  of  the 
river  between  Dyck  and  Schoonaerde. 

Towards  the  4th  of  October,  the  situation  became 
rather  critical.  The  following  is  an  extract  from  an 
account  given  by  Captain  Commander  Cartuyvels 
de  Collaert,  who  depicts  the  situation  faithfully  as 
far  as  his  Squadron  was  concerned.  The  others  had 
experiences  just  as  critical. 

"A  Company  of  Infantry  in  the  first  line, "  he  says, 
"and  my  Squadron  in  the  second  line  were  to  prevent 
the  Boches  from  passing  the  bridge,  which  had  been 
partially  destroyed,  at  Schoonaerde. 

"In  the  afternoon  of  the  4th  of  October,  there  was 


The  I  St  Refriment  of  Lancers      143 


'fc> 


violent  firing  from  the  enemy.  I  evacuated  the  horses 
qtiickly.  Part  of  the  little  hamlet  of  Dael,  to  the 
south  of  Berlaere,  where  the  horses  then  were,  was 
literally  shattered. 

"During  the  bombardment,  Staff  Deputy  Colonel 
Joostens,  who  was  then  Major,  arrived  at  Berlaere  on 
his  way  to  the  Schoonaerde  bridge.  I  was  stopped 
by  the  shells  at  the  last  houses,  to  the  south  of  Dael, 
and  had  just  time  to  fling  myself  into  a  ditch  two  yards 
to  the  east  of  the  road,  in  front  of  a  farm  which 
received  four  or  five  projectiles.  A  little  while  after 
this,  wStaff  Commander  Adjutant  Major  Yperman 
hastened  up  to  me. 

'"Where  is  the  Major?'  he  asked. 

"'There,'  I  answered,  pointing  to  the  Escaut. 
Just  at  this  moment,  an  artillery  salvo  saluted  his 
arrival.     Honour  be  to  whom  honour  is  due ! 

"'I  fancy  you  want  me  to  be  killed,'  said  Com- 
mander Yperman,  laughing. 

"To  my  right,  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  was  a 
cultivated  field,  and  then  a  little  farm  surrounded 
by  hedgjs.  I  saw  a  firing  efTect  there  that  seemed 
extraordinary.  The  shells  were  raining  down.  Sud- 
denly, a  ball  of  fire,  which  looked  about  three  or  four 
yards  in  diameter,  came  along  quickly,  parallel  with 
the  road  in  the  direction  of  the  little  farm,  but  close 
to  the  ground.  It  cleared  the  hedge,  scarcely  touching 
it,  just  as  a  horse  might  have  done  at  a  hunt.  It 
was  a  very  pretty  sight! 

"We  had  no  losses  that  day,  but  alas,  it  was  a  very 
different  thing  the  day  following.  Towards  evening, 
I  received  orders  to  fall  back  and  occupy,  with  my 
Squadron,  the  south  border  of  Berlaere. 

"Lieutenant  Roup  was  hit  in  the  leg  by  shrapnel, 


144  Brave  Belgians 

but  was  not  seriously  wounded.  At  night,  a  fresh 
communication  arrived.  My  brave  Lancers  were  to  go 
into  the  trenches  that  I  had  been  to  inspect  near  the 
Schoonaerde  bridge.  The  Boches  were  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river. 

"The  following  morning, the  5th  of  October,  we  were 
to  be  four  or  five  hundred  3^ards  to  the  east  of  the 
bridge,  in  order  to  let  our  Artillery  shoot  over  Schoon- 
aerde. Just  at  this  point,  the  Escaut  makes  a  slight 
concave  bend  towards  the  north,  that  is  on  our  side. 
I  was,  therefore,  afraid  of  two  things.  First,  there 
was  the  danger  that  the  Germans,  covered  by  their 
own  Artillery,  might  cross  the  bridge  without  our 
seeing  them,  as  we  were  rather  far  from  it  ourselves. 
Then  I  feared  that  we  might  be  surprised  from  behind, 
on  account  of  the  turn  in  the  Escaut,  as  Boche  senti- 
nels were  visible  on  a  sort  of  cupola,  at  the  top  of  a  Ger- 
man manufactory  near  the  Schoonaerde  station,  a 
manufactory  which  we  had  not  been  allowed  to  de- 
stroy by  fire  the  week  before.  Towards  6.30, 1  went  to 
the  bridge,  after  telling  my  men  to  hide  in  the  small 
trenches  we  had  made  during  the  night  in  the  embank- 
ment of  the  Escaut.  On  arriving  as  far  as  the  church, 
I  heard  the  roar  of  cannon.  I  had  a  pang  at  my 
heart,  dreading  lest  the  target  should  be  my  poor 
Squadron.  Two  minutes  later,  a  formidable  storm 
burst  over  our  wretched  little  trenches,  and  this 
storm  continued  for  half  an  hour. 

'"Not  a  single  man  will  be  left,'  I  said  to  myself, 
as  the  projectiles  passed,  one  after  another,  twenty 
yards  in  front  of  me,  with  an  infernal  noise.  The 
whizzing  of  the  shrapnels  and  the  roar  of  the  shells 
were  frightful.  The  air  seemed  to  be  torn  by  them 
and  the  commotion  was  terrible." 


The  I  St  Reo^iment  of  Lancers      145 


't> 


The  following  is  an  episode  of  what  took  place  in 
the  trenches,  according  to  a  letter  from  Lieutenant  de 
Burlet,  which  I  received  a  few  days  later. 

"At  Schoonaerde,  I  lost  seven  men  of  my  platoon. 
One  of  them  was  a  sub-ofiBcer  and  another  my  poor 
orderly,  whom  you  saw  by  me  in  the  trench.  A 
shrapnel  burst  two  yards  away  from  us,  taking  off 
my  poor  Tuitinier's  face.  I  took  refuge  under  his 
dead  body  from  6.30  to  7.45  when,  after  escaping  a 
thousand  dangers  and  feeling  all  the  revulsions  of  the 
body  which  was  protecting  me,  each  time  it  was  hit 
by  the  splinters  from  the  shells,  I  beat  a  retreat 
on  hearing  your  whistle." 

"At  about  7.30,"  continues  Commander  Cartuyvels, 
' '  the  firing  ceased.  I  left  my  shelter  and  heard  German 
being  spoken  on  the  other  side  of  the  water.  Piff! 
paff ! .  .  .  A  ball  had  hit  me  in  the  chest,  but  by  a 
miracle  had  been  turned  aside  by  a  pocket-knife.  A 
second  hit  me  in  the  left  knee. 

"I  had  received  instructions  to  remain  as  long  as  I 
thought  it  possible.  Considering  that  the  position 
could  no  longer  be  held,  I  gave  orders  to  my  Squadron 
to  beat  a  retreat.  I  tried  to  start  as  well  as  I  could 
on  all  threes,  as  I  could  not  use  my  fourth  member. 
I  got  into  a  ditch,  which  was  full  of  water,  and  then 
into  a  second  one.  I  was  up  to  my  neck  in  water 
and  I  then  dragged  myself  along  on  the  wet  grass. 
Another  ball  broke  my  right  thigh,  near  the  hip. 
I  was  settled  now  and  I  pretended  to  be  dead,  but,  in 
spite  of  this,  these  'cultivated  creatures'  continued 
firing  on  me.  What  a  mental  retrospection  one  has 
time  for  when  one  has  to  stay  for  twelve  or  thirteen 
hours  under  the  enemy's  balls! 


146  Brave  Belgians 

"I  wrote  on  my  cuffs  to  my  wife  and  to  my  mother, 
bidding  them  farewell,  and  I  lay  there  waiting  for 
death!  The  shells  continued  to  rage  over  my  head 
and  the  bullets  to  whizz  through  the  air,  A  foot- 
soldier,  crawling  along  a  few  yards  away  from  me, 
was  shot  through  the  head.  He  uttered  a  hoarse 
cry  and  his  soul  passed  away. 

"In  the  afternoon,  I  either  had  a  dum-dum  ball  or 
one  that  had  been  turned  aside  in  my  left  thigh,  and 
this  caused  me  great  suffering. 

"When  the  darkness  came  on,  thanks  to  a  little 
whistle  which  I  always  used  for  giving  orders,  I  was 
found  by  Quartermaster  de  Looz-Corswarem  and 
Thibaut  of  my  Squadron.  They  were  helped  by  a 
civilian  and  by  a  private  belonging  to  the  Infantry, 
whose  name  I  believe  was  Ledent,  and  I  was  put  on 
to  a  wheelbarrow  and  taken  to  Dael.     I  was  saved! 

"Under  the  direction  of  Dr.  Godenne,  de  Looz  and 
Thibaut  brought  in  several  other  wounded  men. 
They  have  since  received  a  military  decoration  for 
their  fine  work.  Seventeen  men  were  killed  or 
reported  missing  that  day,  and  seven  were  wounded 
and  taken  to  the  hospital.  Out  of  three  officers  en- 
gaged in  the  combat,  two  were  seriously  wounded, 
and  one  escaped  by  using  the  body  of  his  orderly  as  a 
shield.  The  4th  Squadron  had  proved  itself  worthy 
of  its  country ! 

"Things  were  no  better  on  the  6th.  The  reserve 
Squadrons  intervened  in  their  turn  and  held  out 
wonderfully.  Nothing  whatever  disturbed  their 
equanimity.  What  brave  men  they  were!  They 
were  told  that  if  the  enemy  attempted  to  come  to 
close  quarters,  they  could  defend  themselves  with  the 
butt  end  of  their  guns,  as  they  had  no  bayonets.    They 


The  ist  Regiment  of  Lancers     147 

accepted  this  perspective  with  sang-froid  and  with 
that  decision  which  had  always  been  their  character- 
istic. 

"  Lieutenant-General  Michel  sent  them  his  warmest 
congratulations  on  the  following  day.  I  transmitted 
the  same  to  my  troop  in  the  following  words: 

' ' '  After  the  combats  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Schoonaerde  and  Appels,  the  Lieutenant-General  in 
command  of  the  4th  Army  Division  has  begged  me  to 
convey  his  warmest  congratulations  to  all  the  officers, 
sub-officers,  brigadiers,  and  men  of  the  regiment  who, 
for  several  consecutive  days,  carried  out  an  extremely 
difficult  and  exposed  service  in  the  trenches.  The 
exceptionally  firm  and  resolute  conduct  of  the  ist 
Regiment  of  Lancers  has  won  the  admiration  of 
Lieutenant-General  Michel  and  I  am  proud  and 
happy  to  transmit  to  all  those  who  have  merited  it  the 
testimony  of  his  great  satisfaction.  We  shall  none 
of  us  ever  forget  those  of  our  comrades  who  fell  during 
these  cruel  days,  nor  any  of  those  whom  we  have  lost 
since  the  beginning  of  the  campaign,  and  our  courage 
and  activity  will  be  greater  than  ever  now,  in  order 
to  avenge  and  honour  their  memory.' " 

The  retreat  led  us  in  the  direction  of  the  Yser,  and 
we  were  frequently  in  close  contact  with  the  enemy's 
Cavalry  at  Thourout,  Moerbeke,  Vladsloo,  and 
Bovekerque,  and  finally,  after  the  great  battle,  the 
Squadrons,  giving  up  for  the  time  their  spurs,  mingled 
during  long  months  with  the  foot-soldiers,  in  order  to 
share  with  them  in  the  work  of  organising  and  defend- 
ing the  trenches. 

The  King  considered  that  the  ist  Regiment  of 
Lancers  had  specially  distinguished  itself  at  Schoon- 
aerde, at  Selzaete,  and  before  Dixmude,  and  rewarded 


148  Brave  Belgians 

a  number  of  my  brave  officers  by  granting  to  them 
the  following  distinctions: 

Colonel  A.  E.  M.  Joostens,  Major  A.  E.  AI.  Lemer- 
cier,  Captain  Commander  Cartuyvels:  Officers  of  the 
Order  of  Leopold. 

Major  A.  E.  M.  Yperman,  Captain  Commander 
Ch.  de  Melotte:  Knights  of  the  Legion  of  Honour. 

Captain  Commander  de  Thier,  Rosseels:  Knights 
of  the  Order  of  Leopold. 

Lieutenants  Pulincx,  Delfosse,  Deboek,  Laffineur, 
Orban:     Knights  of  the   Order  of  Leopold. 

Sub-Lieutenants  Dugardin,  Cartuwels  de  Collaert, 
Ch.  de  ]Melotte:     Knights  of  the  Order  of  Leopold. 

Drs.  Brasseur,  Hallez,  Godenne:  Knights  of  the 
Order  of  Leopold. 

Lieutenants  ]\Ioreau,  de  Kerchove,  de  Denterghem: 
Knights  of  the  Order  of  Leopold  and  a  citation  in  the 
minutes  of  the  Army. 

Lieutenant  Rolin:  Knight  of  the  Order  of  Leo- 
pold and  a  decoration  of  the  Order  of  St.  Anne  (3rd 
class). 

Lieutenant  Bertrand:  Knight  of  the  Order  of  the 
Crown. 

Commander  Bosquet:  A  citation  in  the  minutes 
of  the  Army. 

Army  Doctor  Evrard.  A  citation  in  the  minutes 
of  the  Army. 

Lieutenants  Verhaegen,  Roup,  Fichefet,  Coimt 
d'Ursel  (Georges) :  A  citation  in  the  minutes  of  the 
Army. 

Sub-Lieutenant  Baron  Sloet  van  Oldruytenborg : 
A  citation  in  the  minutes  of  the  Army. 

It  would  take  too  long  to  enumerate  the  rewards 
of   the   lower  ranks  and   of   the  cavalrymen,    but  I 


ihe  I  St  Regiment  of  Lancers      149 

would  not  finish  this  brief  account  without  expressing 
to  them  my  admiration  and  taking  off  my  hat  to 
all  of  them,  whilst  repeating  the  words  of  a  great 
chief:     "  I  would  go  down  on  my  knees  to  them  all." 

WuLPEN,  October,  1915. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

The  Termonde  Bridge 

By  an  Officer  of  the  4TH  Artillery  Regiment 

On  the  28th  of  September,  1914,  the  ist  Group  of 
the  4th  Artillery,  under  Captain  Commander  T'Ser- 
stevens,  after  distinguishing  itself  in  the  combats 
fought  to  the  south  of  Termonde,  at  St.  Gilles,  at 
Audeghem  and  at  Wieze,  came  to  Grembergen  to  take 
the  place  of  the  batteries  of  the  4th  Brigade,  which 
was  made  up  of  various  units.  Of  all  the  positions 
at  Termonde,  that  of  the  bridge  itself,  then  occupied 
by  a  cannon  intended  to  take  it  by  enfilade,  was  the 
most  dangerous  of  any.  All  the  chiefs  of  the  sections 
of  this  group  had  been  on  service  there,  ttirn  by  turn. 
Two  of  them,  Sub-Lieutenants  Hiernaux  and  Mayat, 
were  killed  there. 

Hiernaux  fell  at  his  post,  the  night  of  the  ist  of 
October,  during  an  attack  by  the  enemy.  The  Ter- 
monde bridge  had  been  destroyed  beforehand,  and 
a  wooden  bridge  had  been  constructed  and  mined  by  a 
section  of  the  Engineers,  who  were  there  ready  to 
blow  it  up.  With  the  13th  Line  Regiment,  and  a 
machine-gun,  we  occupied  the  left  bank  of  the  Escaut 
and  the  Germans  held  the  town  itself,  which  was 
built  on  the  opposite  bank.  The  bridge,  therefore, 
constituted  a  passage  common  to  us  both,  and  the 

150 


The  Termonde  Bridge  151 

defensive  organisations  on  both  sides  were  similar 
and  formidable.  The  banks  of  the  river  were  merely 
deep  trenches,  and  the  nearest  houses  served  as 
block-houses  for  the  machine-guns  and  small  cannons. 
Our  look-out  men,  on  the  alert  all  the  time,  were 
endeavouring  to  surprise  the  enemy's  least  prepara- 
tions in  the  ruins,  with  which  we  were  already  famil- 
iar, of  the  burnt  town.  The  framework  of  the  gaping 
houses  looked,  at  night,  like  so  many  weird  skeletons. 
From  time  to  time,  by  the  light  of  a  moonbeam,  we 
saw  figiires  gliding  along  between  the  portions  of  the 
walls.  Such  figures  were  always  promptly  saluted 
by  the  crackling  of  a  ball  and  they  would  then  dis- 
appear among  the  ruins.  Over  yonder,  like  so  many 
will-o'-the-wisps,  little  blue  flames  could  be  seen  at 
intervals.  They  were  caused  by  the  elite  of  the 
enemy's  picked  guns  aiming  at  any  heads  which 
appeared  above  our  parapets. 

The  night  of  the  ist  of  October  was  a  beautiful, 
starry  autiunn  night.  The  German  Artillery,  after 
an  excessively  violent  bombardment,  which  had 
lasted  several  hours  and  had  obliged  oiu*  much-tried 
Infantry  to  leave  the  dyke  and  to  curve  roimd  the 
other  parts  of  the  bridge,  now  fired  less  frequently. 
The  soldiers,  leaning  against  their  shelters,  were  en- 
joying fresh  air  in  relative  tranquillity. 

A  vigilant  sentinel  suddenly  hailed  his  chief.  He 
had  just  seen  a  dark  compact  mass  moving  along. 
It  was  not  very  visible  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  but  it 
appeared  to  be  making  for  the  bridge. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it,  the  enemy  was  trying 
to  effect  a  passage.  At  the  signal  of  alarm,  foot- 
soldiers,  machine-  and  cannon-gunners  rushed  to  their 
posts,  and  the  storm  immediately  broke  loose. 


152  Brave  Belgians 

Under  the  protection  of  a  violent  and  continuous 
firing  from  the  right  bank,  an  assaulting  column  came 
out  from  the  principal  street  of  Tennonde.  The  first 
men  were  carrying  mattresses,  which  they  endeavoured 
to  use  as  shields;  the  others  followed,  in  close  ranks 
without  any  order.  They  looked  more  like  a  flock  of 
animals  than  a  regularly  constituted  troop.  They 
were  singing  their  famous  Gloria  Victoria  and  appeared 
to  be  absolutely  drunk.  After  the  first  discharges 
of  musketry,  the  artillery  gun  had  its  men  hors  de 
combat,  with  the  exception  of  Sub-Lieutenant  Hiernaux 
and  the  man  in  command  of  the  cannon,  who  both 
opened  fire  on  the  assailants.  The  machine-gun  en- 
tered into  action  as  well,  whilst  the  soldiers  of  the  13th 
Line  Regiment  fired  direct  on  the  German  troops  who, 
nevertheless,  managed  to  get  a  footing  on  the  bridge. 

The  officer  of  the  Engineers  who  had  mined  it 
had  two  discharges.  Seeing  that  the  assailants  who 
were  killed  were  instantly  replaced  by  others,  and 
that  the  enemy  was  threatening  the  left  bank,  this 
brave  man  established  the  electric  contact.  To 
otu"  stupefaction,  no  detonation  followed.  The  Ger- 
mans had  now  reached  the  end  of  the  bridge.  Without 
any  excitement,  the  officer  seized  the  second  discharge. 
A  formidable  explosion  took  place,  flinging  into  the 
distance  the  ruins  of  the  bridge,  fragments  of  human 
beings,  and  various  objects  of  their  equipment.  All 
fell  pele-mele  into  the  river  and  on  to  the  banks, 
covering  the  soldiers  who  were  hidden  there  with 
blood  and  with  human  shreds.  In  face  of  this  disaster, 
the  assaulting  column  stopped  short,  horrified,  and 
then  rushed  back  in  disorder  towards  the  town,  whilst 
huge  flames  rose  from  the  piles  of  the  bridge  which 
had  been  soaked  in  petroleum. 


The  Tcrmonde  Bridge  i53 

The  surprise  attack  had  failed,  and  two  more  weak 
attempts  were  cut  short  by  our  shelling.  'The  usual 
vengeance  was  then  resorted  to.  The  enemy  Artillery 
concentrated  its  fire  on  the  vicinity  of  the  bridge. 
Our  brave  troops  lived  through  one  of  those  critical 
moments  when  the  destructive  power  of  the  human 
machine  is  only  comparable  to  the  grandeur  of  souls 
ready  for  any  sacrifice.  For  one  long  hour,  our 
soldiers  were  submitted  to  a  storm  of  steel  which, 
with  a  hellish  clatter,  warned  them  of  a  fresh  attack. 
It  was  necessary  to  conquer  the  intense  nervous  strain, 
to  watch  without  ceasing,  and  to  examine  all  the 
impenetrable  and  threatening  fortification  works  on 
the  other  bank  of  the  river.  It  was  whilst  examining 
all  this,  from  above  the  shield  of  his  cannon,  that 
Sub-Lieutenant  Hiernaux  fell,  just  at  the  critical 
moment,  struck  between  the  eyes  by  a  ball.  His 
fine  death  proved  to  us  once  more  all  that  there  is  of 
energy,  sang-froid,  and  courage  among  otu:  subaltern 
ranks. 

Quartermaster  Francotte  ordered  the  officer's  body 
to  be  carried  to  a  neighbouring  shelter  and  he  covered 
it  over  with  a  wrap.  He  then  took  Hiernaux's  place 
at  the  cannon  and  kept  his  aids  there  all  night,  whilst 
the  neighbouring  trenches  had  to  be  abandoned  for  a 
time,  as  they  were  impossible,  on  account  of  the  gas 
from  the  explosion  of  the  shells. 

Two  days  later,  Sub-Lieutenant  Mayat  was  on 
service  at  the  bridge.  In  the  afternoon,  the  Com- 
mander of  the  group  and  his  aid  came  to  examine  the 
adversary's  organisation.  The  heads  of  the  three 
officers,  Sub-Lieutenant  Mayat  between  the  other 
two,  were  just  for  an  instant  above  the  shield  formed 
by  the  cannon.     This  formed  an  excellent  target  for 


154  Brave  Belgians 

those  on  the  other  side.  A  ball  whizzed  by  and  one  of 
the  heads  disappeared.  Mayat,  without  uttering  a 
cry,  fell  against  his  chief,  and  a  stream  of  red  blood 
spurted  from  his  pierced  temple  and  inundated  his 
face,  which  had  turned  suddenly  livid. 

At  present,  the  two  friends  are  sleeping  their 
glorious  sleep  side  by  side,  in  the  Httle  cemetery  of 
Grembergen,  where  we  buried  them  reverently. 
The  day  will  come  when  those  who  know  of  their 
noble  death  and  who,  more  fortunate  than  they,  have 
been  spared,  will  be  able  to  go  and  place  flowers  on 
their  tombs,  in  order  to  show  their  gratitude  and 
admiration. 

But  no  homage  can  be  equal  to  the  tears  of  sincere 
grief  of  the  officer  who  was  sent  to  take  Sub-Lieu- 
tenant Mayat's  place,  when  he  saw  his  comrade  lying 
at  his  post,  in  all  the  rigidity  of  the  last  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

The  No.  7  Armoured  Car 

By   Sub-Lieutenant  G.  Thiery,  of  the   ist  Regiment  of 

Guides,  in  Command  of  the  Group  of  Armoured  Cars 

OF  the  1ST  Cavalry  Division 

What  an  easy  and  pleasant  task  it  is  to  relate  the 
adventures  of  another  person  and  to  praise  the  ex- 
ploits and  the  courage  of  a  friend.  But  how  delicate 
and  trying  it  is  to  describe  one's  own  deeds!  To  the 
man  who  considers  himself  rewarded  by  the  feeling  of 
having  done  his  duty,  it  is  by  no  means  easy  to  have 
to  say:  "I  was  there  and  this  is  what  happened  to 
me. ..."  However,  since  I  am  requested  to  give  this 
account,  I  must  do  so. 

It  was  at  Wommelghem,  near  Antwerp,  that,  on 
the  4th  of  September,  1914,  I  was  given  command  of 
the  No.  7  armoured  car  attached  to  the  Cavalry  Divi- 
sion. I  will  begin  by  congratulating  those  who 
invented  and  thought  out  this  engine  of  warfare. 
Some  have  been  built  which  were  six  months  in  the 
work-shops.  Of  these,  some  are  monuments  which 
can  never  be  utilised,  and  others  are  wonders  invented 
in  offices,  which  need  to  be  stripped  of  three  quarters 
of  their  improvements,  in  order  to  be  of  any  use  under 
fire.  In  three  weeks,  the  Minerva  factory  and  the 
Cockerill  work-shops  delivered  to  the  Belgian  army 

155 


156  Brave  Belgians 

what  I  believe  to  be  the  best  armoured  car  in  use. 
It  is  sure,  easily  worked,  rapid,  strong,  and  efficiently 
protected.  The  No.  7  car  brought  me  a  number  of 
brave  men.  First  there  was  Count  Guy  de  Berlay- 
mont,  the  personification  of  courage  and  indifference 
to  danger;  then  Constant  Heureux,  bravery  and  ab- 
negation made  man;  finally  Dujardin  and  Gouffaux, 
two  good  and  valiant  soldiers.  All  of  them,  like 
myself,  were  volunteers. 

Without  any  preliminaries,  we  found  ourselves  at 
once  in  the  midst  of  the  drama. 

On  the  evening  of  the  5th  of  September,  at  the 
Criteriiun  at  Antwerp,  Lieutenant  Hankar,  Count 
Henri  de  Villermont,  Prince  Baudouin  de  Ligne, 
Misson,  Philippe  de  Zualar,  Berlaymont  and  I  were 
sitting  round  a  table,  discussing  our  departiu"e  joyfully. 

On  the  evening  of  the  6th,  Berlaymont  and  I  were 
again  at  the  Criterium,  and  big  tears  came  to  our 
eyes,  as  we  looked  at  the  empty  seats  which  had 
been  occupied,  the  previous  evening,  by  our  friends. 
That  afternoon,  whilst  patrolling  round  Herenthals, 
we  heard  that  their  vehicles  had  been  attacked  near 
Zammel.  All  that  we  were  able  to  snatch  from  the 
enemy  had  been  three  dead  men,  four  wounded 
ones,  some  weapons,  and  two  armoured  cars. 

The  Germans  had  now  a  fresh  item,  and  a  very 
big  one,  on  the  account  that  we  had  to  settle  with 
them. 

On  the  8th  of  September,  we  had  our  revenge. 
For  the  second  time,  the  army  made  a  sortie  from 
Antwerp,  and  the  Cavalry  Division,  forming  the  left 
wing,  advanced  towards  Lou  vain.  Information  of  all 
kinds  poured  in  at  Headquarters  and  one  detail 
struck  General  de  Witte,  that  chief  of  whom  I  can 


The  No.  7  Armoured  Car        157 

never  speak  without  the  greatest  respect  and  ad- 
miration. The  General  had  been  told  that  the  village 
of  Werchter  was  only  weakly  guarded.  A  bold  stroke 
might  make  us  masters  of  the  passage  of  the  Dyle. 
This  stroke  was  to  be  attempted. 

The  execution  of  it  was  confided  to  the  Battalion 
of  Cyclist  Carabineers,  that  heroic  phalanx  which 
does  not  need  to  be  introduced  to  any  one,  so 
well  is  it  known.  Everyone  is  acquainted  with  our 
diables  noirs  (black  devils),  those  of  Haelen,  and 
of  everywhere  else  where  there  were  blows  to  be 
given  and  laurels  to  reap,  that  band  of  brave  men 
who  always  set  out  laughing,  dressed  their  wounds 
whilst  singing,  and  returned  to  the  fight  the  following 
day,  their  natural  ardour  increased  by  the  desire  to 
avenge  the  deaths  of  the  previous  day. 

My  armoured  car  set  out  at  the  head  of  the  little 
column.  Between  Schriek  and  Tremeloo,  a  Com- 
pany of  Cyclists  was  left  to  serve  as  support  for  the 
two  others  who  went  forward.  We  arrived  at  Treme- 
loo. In  this  devastated  and  deserted  village.  Lieu- 
tenant Fritz  de  Menten  and  half  a  platoon  of  the 
2nd  Lancers  were  awaiting  us.  They  confirmed  the 
information  that  Werchter  was  only  held  by  a  small 
force.  They  had  been  assured  that  the  Boche  foot- 
soldiers,  with  the  exception  of  those  who  were  doing 
the  cooking  in  the  Square,  were  all  busy  getting  drunk 
on  yack  op  at  the  wine-shop. 

What  enthusiasm  there  was  amongst  us!  Our 
two  hundred  and  fifty  Cyclists  were  relishing  the 
joy  that  they  would  have  in  seeing  their  old  acquaint- 
ances again,  the  Prussian  pilferers,  house-burners, 
and  torturers.  They  set  off  in  three  columns.  The 
middle  one,  which  I  led,  took  the  direct  road.     Another 


158  Brave  Belgians 

one  turned  to  the  left,  in  order  to  attack  Werchter, 
by  the  Dyle.  The  third  column  took  the  plain  to  the 
right,  in  order  to  approach  the  village  from  the  north. 
Lieutenant  de  Menten's  half  platoon  served  as  scouts 
for  the  column  on  the  left.  We  rushed  off  at  full 
speed.  The  bridge  over  the  Laak,  a  small  tributary 
to  the  right  of  the  Dyle,  was  soon  crossed,  the  cycles 
were  then  left,  and  the  sharp-shooters  went  off  at  a 
trot,  stooping  in  order  to  be  hidden  in  the  harvest 
fields. 

I  reached  the  first  houses  in  Werchter  with  my  car. 
There  was  not  a  soul  to  be  seen!  This  silence  and 
mystery  did  not  seem  natural  to  us.  A  hundred 
yards  away,  the  chief  street  was  barricaded.  An 
inhabitant  assured  us  that  the  few  Boches  who  had 
occupied  Werchter  had  already  taken  flight  in  the 
direction  of  the  bridges.  We  immediately  took  the 
machine-gun  out  of  the  car,  together  with  its  support 
and  the  cases  of  cartridges,  intending  to  carry  all  this 
over  the  barricade,  which  the  motor-car  could  not 
cross,  and  then  sweep  the  bridge  with  balls,  so  that 
our  prey  should  not  escape  us. 

Berlaymont,  with  the  machine-gun  on  his  shoulder, 
and  a  cyclist  carrying  two  cartridge  cases,  were  the 
first  to  enter  the  street.  They  had  not  gone  ten  steps 
when  they  were  greeted  by  a  volley  of  bullets.  The 
shooting  was  from  all  the  windows  and  the  cyclist 
had  his  arm  broken.  This  volley  was  evidently  a 
signal,  as  the  whole  circtmiference  of  Werchter  now 
broke  out  into  short  flames.  An  infernal  firing  then 
took  place,  interspersed  with  the  tac-tac-tac  of 
Maxims.  Werchter  was  a  trap.  We  were  attacking 
the  enemy  one  against  fotu-,  and  our  adversary  was 
invulnerable  behind  the  walls  of  the  houses.     Our 


The  No.  7  Armoured  Car        159 

retreat  was  obligatory,  but  the  question  was,  Could 
the  destruction  of  the  Battalion  be  avoided? 

It  is  in  these  tragic  moments  that  the  worth  of  a 
troop  can  be  judged.  In  reply  to  their  officers' 
whistling,  the  Cyclists  fell  back  in  good  order,  replying 
at  the  same  time  to  the  enemy's  firing.  Just  as  though 
they  were  at  drill,  my  men  put  back  the  machine-gun 
support  in  its  box,  and  strapped  it  up,  whilst  the 
chief  gunner  put  his  cannon  on  its  battery  and  awaited 
the  order  to  fire.  In  the  car,  each  man  took  the 
place  assigned  to  him  beforehand:  the  chief  gunner 
standing  up  by  the  side  of  the  driver.  The  latter 
charged  the  machine  and  also  attended  to  his  driving. 
The  second  gunner  was  seated  in  Turkish  fashion  at 
the  back.  He  passed  the  charges  full  and  arranged 
the  empty  cases.  The  chief  was  kneeling  down  at  his 
side,  the  upper  part  of  his  body  higher  than  the  plat- 
ing. It  is  his  part  to  direct  the  aim,  with  the  aid 
of  his  field-glasses.  This  is  the  dangerous  post,  at 
which  three  quarters  of  those  killed  in  armoured  cars 
have  had  their  skulls  pierced.  I  have  been  wounded 
twice  in  the  head  at  this  post. 

Our  Cyclists  were  now  beginning  to  recross  the 
Laak  bridge,  and  we  opened  a  rapid  fire  on  the  limits 
of  Werchter,  where  the  enemy  appeared  to  be  coming 
out  in  our  pursuit. 

Firing  attracts  firing,  and  a  shower  of  balls  crackled 
over  the  armoiu-ed  car,  passing  close  to  our  ears  with 
the  noise  of  huge,  furious  flies  buzzing  quickly  through 
the  air. 

Our  brave  Hotchkiss  fired  without  ceasing.  The 
second  gunner  was  tending  his  machine  as  though  it 
were  a  pet  animal.  As  soon  as  it  had  spit  forth  its 
shower  of  a  hundred  balls,  he  quickly  put  a  pinch  of 


i6o  Brave  Belgians 

vaseline  on  the  piston  and  a  damp  rag  over  the  cannon. 
In  five  minutes,  a  thousand  cartridges  had  been 
fired.  The  cannon  was  getting  warm.  From  black, 
it  had  changed  to  blue  and  was  mottled  with  spots. 
It  had  to  be  changed.  We  were  advancing  towards 
the  Laak  bridge,  which  all  the  Cyclists  had  now 
crossed.  As  we  went  along,  we  encouraged  the 
wounded  ones  who  were  trying  to  crawl  along  as  far 
as  there.  We  changed  the  cannon  whilst  under 
fire.  There  was  a  bolt  to  draw,  then  a  few  blows  of 
the  mallet  on  a  big  key,  the  cannon  was  grasped 
between  rags  and  plunged  into  a  basin  of  cold  water. 
With  a  hissing  noise,  a  long  spurt  of  boiling  water 
flowed  up-hill.  Whilst  the  chief  gunner  examined 
the  mechanism  of  his  machine  and  greased  it,  his 
helper  drew  the  second  cannon  from  its  sheath  and 
put  it  in  its  place.  With  a  thud,  it  settled  and,  the 
whole  operation  having  taken  forty  seconds,  we  were 
once  more  ready  to  fire. 

The  enemy  was  now  coming  out  from  Werchter. 
I  could  see  the  lines  of  sharp-shooters  distinctly. 
They  were  advancing  in  the  fields  of  rye  and  beet-root. 

"Do  you  see  them?"  I  asked. 

"Yes." 

"At  three  hundred  yards,  mow  them  down  with 
volleys  of  sixty,  if  you  like.  Fire!" 

And  our  Hotchkiss  continued  its  noise,  which 
sounded  like  a  huge  sewing  machine.  Over  yonder, 
we  saw  the  grey  fellows  tumbling  over  each  other, 
running,  hiding.  And  the  balls  whizzed  round  us 
quicker  than  ever. 

The  Cyclists  were  still  five  hundred  yards  away  from 
us  in  their  retreat,  but  our  cannon  was  again  getting 
warm  and,  besides  this,  the  extractor  was  dirty  and 


The  No.  7  Armoured  Car        i6i 

some  of  the  balls  failed.  We  fell  back  a  second  time 
and,  behind  a  hedge,  the  changing  of  the  cannon  again 
took  place.  This  time  we  had  the  additional  compli- 
cation of  changing  the  extractor.  The  enemy  took 
advantage  of  this  for  advancing  at  full  speed. 

"Quick!  quick!  is  everything  ready?" 

The  car  fell  back.  A  hundred  yards  from  the 
bridge  there  was  a  good  place  for  it.  From  there  we 
could  see  for  five  hundred  yards  along  both  sides  of 
the  route  skirting  the  Laak.  This  time  we  were  keenly 
on  the  watch.  We  no  longer  replied  to  the  firing  in- 
tended for  us:  it  was  no  use  wasting  munition  hap- 
hazard. The  chief  gunner  to  the  right,  and  I  to  the 
left,  watched  the  groups  which  arrived  on  the  bank 
of  the  river. 

Rrann!  .  .  .  and  there  was  a  charge'  for  each 
group.  How  many  fell  like  that!  It  was  good 
firing,  with  certain  result.  And  there  was  no  hurry 
now,  so  that  the  cannon  only  got  gradually  warm. 

The  combat  had  been  going  on  for  forty  minutes. 
The  Cyclists  must  have  reached  Tremeloo.  There 
were  still  the  wounded  ones  to  look  after.  Berlay- 
mont  and  I  got  down  and  picked  up  six  or  seven  of 
them.  We  placed  them  on  the  chests,  on  the  wings, 
on  the  platform,  at  the  back,  and  even  on  the  hood. 
This  exasperated  the  Boches,  who  fired  on  us  furiously. 
We  now  made  off,  but  on  the  Tremeloo  road,  we  came 
across  about  twenty  poor  wounded  men,  dragging 
themselves  along  in  the  most  lamentable  way.  They 
stretched  out  their  hands  to  us,  beseeching  to  be  picked 
up.  It  was  impossible  to  abandon  them.  Six  volun- 
teers of  the  Cyclist  rear-guard  offered  their  services. 
They  discovered  a  cart  and  an  old  horse  which,  by 

'  A  charge  comprises  thirty  cartridges  placed  on  a  metallic  band. 


'i62  Brave  Belgians 

some  miracle,  had  remained  among  the  ruins  of  a 
farm  and,  whilst  they  were  doing  this,  the  machine- 
gun  received  certain  indispensable  repairs.  The  car 
then  started  once  more  towards  Werchter,  followed 
by  the  cart  transformed  into  an  ambulance.  About 
one  hundred  yards  in  front  of  the  bridge,  a  wounded 
man  was  lying  across  the  road.  He  begged  to  be  picked 
up  at  once.  We  fastened  him  to  the  platform  and 
thought  no  more  about  him,  for  the  balls  were  raining 
down  again.  The  Boches  had  crossed  the  bridge  and 
we  had  to  drive  them  back,  so  that  we  could  pick  up 
the  wounded  men.  We  advanced  slowly,  giving  our 
enemies  a  hellish  fire.  They  were  running  from 
hedge  to  hedge,  quite  near  to  us. 

Lieutenant  de  Menten,  who  had  been  taken  pris- 
oner at  the  beginning  of  the  action,  and  was  freed 
later  on,  told  us  about  this  part  of  the  fight.  The 
Germans,  two  battalions  and  a  squadron  strong, 
dragged  him  along  with  them  in  the  pursuit,  and  we 
came  very  near  freeing  him  ourselves.  For  a  short 
time,  he  was  surrounded  by  the  dead  and  he  had  to 
lie  down  flat  in  a  ditch,  in  order  to  avoid  sharing  the 
fate  of  his  keepers.  We  were  only  one  hundred  yards 
away.  We  had  painted  a  gigantic  7  on  our  car,  out  of 
sheer  bravado.  A  German  officer  told  him  that  even- 
ing that  that  "cursed  Number  vSeven"  had  killed 
more  than  two  hundred  men  in  an  hour. 

Our  provision  of  4500  cartridges  was  coming  to  an 
end  though.  We  began  to  fall  back  a  little,  especially 
as  the  balls  were  now  coming  from  right  and  left. 
There  were  no  longer  any  wounded  men  on  the  road, 
as  oiu-  brave  Carabineers  had  worked  well. 

"Good  Heavens!"  we  suddenly  exclaimed  "and 
what  about  the  man  we  picked  up  and  put  at  the  back 


I 


The  No.  7  Armoured  Car         163 

of  the  motor-car? "  When  our  last  volley  was  fired  we 
visited  him,  expecting  to  find  him  in  a  piteous  state. 
Miraculously,  he  had  not  a  single  scratch  more  than 
when  we  had  picked  him  up,  and  yet  the  back  of  the 
car  was  riddled  with  marks  of  bullets.  What  a  piece 
of  good  luck  for  him  and,  as  for  us,  our  men  were  all 
there;  we  had  not  lost  one. 

During  that  second  sortie  from  Antwerp,  we  had 
magnificent  chances  of  distinguishing  ourselves  every 
day.  On  the  loth  of  September,  for  instance,  we 
started  from  Rhode  St.  Pierre  with  some  Pioneers 
and,  slipping  between  German  posts  and  patrols,  we 
reached  Cumptich,  near  Tirlemont,  about  ten  miles 
behind  the  enemy's  lines.  Whilst  the  Pioneers  were 
destroying  the  railway  line  from  Louvain  to  Liege,  we 
kept  a  lookout  on  the  road.  A  red  auto  came  along. 
It  was  a  Pipe,  12  horse-power,  1912,  driven  by  a  Ger- 
man soldier,  and  there  were  two  conceited-looking 
officers  in  it.  Berlaymont  seized  his  carbine  and, 
at  a  hundred  yards'  distance,  fired  twice.  Each  ball 
hit  an  officer  straight.  The  car  stopped  short  and  the 
chauffeur  held  up  his  arms.  We  rushed  forward,  our 
Brownings  in  our  hands.  The  two  officers  were  on  the 
floor  of  the  car,  with  their  heads  open. 

"What  a  pity,"  said  Berlaymont,  regretfully, 
"they  have  made  a  mess  of  the  leather!" 

After  securing  the  chauffeur,  we  started  along  the 
road  in  our  car.  On  approaching  the  sentinels,  we 
called  out  to  them:  "Come  here,  or  you  are  dead 
men." 

Not  one  of  the  five  prisoners  we  made  attempted 
to  defend  himself.  As  soon  as  they  saw  the  armoiired 
car,  they  threw  down  their  weapons  and  put  their 
hands  up.     Some  of  them  knelt  down  and  asked  for 


164  Brave  Belgians 

pardon.  On  returning,  our  captured  car  came  to  a 
stand-still  and  the  prisoner  chauffeur  repaired  it 
with  the  most  obsequious  eagerness.  The  climax  was 
that,  just  as  we  were  setting  off  again,  we  heard  a 
voice  calling  out:  "Stop,  stop,  you  have  forgotten 
me."  It  was  one  of  our  prisoners,  who  had  got  down 
while  the  car  was  being  repaired  and  whom  we  had  not 
missed. 

That  same  day,  the  loth  of  September,  I  had  two 
more  big  fights,  and  was  able  to  advance  as  far  as 
Blauwput,  a  suburb  of  Louvain.  Unfortunately,  this 
cost  me  the  life  of  Corporal  Royer,  a  very  brave  man 
who  had  already  had  honourable  mention  in  his 
Division.  In  the  afternoon,  we  had  the  Pellenberg 
fight,  where  the  violent  resistance  of  the  German 
Marine  Fusiliers  stopped  our  progress. 

Until  we  reached  the  Yser,  my  car  was  engaged  on 
an  average  three  times  a  day.  It  would  be  impossible 
to  tell  of  all  our  skirmishes,  so  I  will  only  give  the 
most  interesting  episodes. 

On  the  27th  of  September,  at  Alost,  my  car  was 
sheltering  in  the  little  street  of  the  Morseel  bridge, 
behind  a  barricade  made  of  herring  barrels.  We  had 
to  wait  there  and  could  see  nothing,  whilst  shells 
were  falling  all  round  us.  Suddenly,  a  projectile  fell 
right  on  the  barricade  and  filled  our  car  with  herrings. 
It  was  a  perfect  infection,  and  never  had  our  nostrils 
been  poisoned  by  any  odour  as  disagreeable  as  that. 
Whilst  we  were  raging  and  holding  our  noses,  a  tall 
American  fellow  came  up  with  a  cinematograph  photo 
apparatus. 

"Captain,"  he  said,  "I  am  the  operator  of  an 
American  Cinematograph  Company.  May  I  have 
the  honour  of  taking  views  of    your  motor-car  in 


The  No.  7  Armoured  Car         165 

fighting  position?"  We  had  scarcely  recovered  from 
our  amazement,  when  a  shell  dropped  on  a  neighbour- 
ing house,  which  immediately  fell  on  us  and  on  the 
American,  in  the  midst  of  a  cloud  of  dust  and  a  frightful 
noise.  With  the  most  superb  calmness,  Berlaymont 
called  to  me:  "Look  out,  it  is  always  a  good  thing  to 
notice  the  objective."  He  got  up  and  began  search- 
ing for  the  objective.  Just  at  this  moment,  we  saw 
the  Cinema  American,  who  had  stepped  back  a  few 
yards  and,  with  his  apparatus  still  on  its  three  feet, 
was  taking  views  phlegmatically. 

Between  eleven  o'clock  and  twelve,  we  received  or- 
ders to  fall  back  one  hundred  yards,  in  order  to  support 
the  platoon  of  the  5th  Lancers,  under  the  command 
of  Lieutenant  van  den  Elschen.  It  was  entrenched 
behind  a  barricade  of  tan  bales.  Our  enemies  were 
not  visible  and  we  were  only  aware  of  their  presence 
by  the  arrival  of  shells.  One  of  these  projectiles 
broke  in  the  window  of  the  Delhaize  grocery  shop. 
It  was  most  providential  for  us,  as  it  allowed  us  to 
lunch  copiously  on  the  verandah,  free  of  charge,  with 
a  musical  accompaniment,  composed  of  the  latest 
tango  airs,  played  on  the  piano  by  Lieutenant 
Poncelet.  Things  went  on  very  well  until  another 
shell  knocked  down  a  chimney.  As  this  fell  on  the 
verandah,  we  had  to  move  from  there.  We  returned 
to  our  barricade  and  found  the  Cinema  operator 
getting  our  horsemen  to  rehearse  a  "Defence  of 
Alost."  "I  have  only  taken  a  bombardment,  so 
far,"  he  explained,  "  and  I  should  like  to  get  a  real 
fight." 

Amused  at  this  idea,  the  officers  allowed  him  to 
direct  operations.  Commanded  in  nigger  French, 
our  horsemen  first  repulsed  an  imaginary  attack  of 


1 66  Brave  Belgians 

the  enemy,  by  fire,  and  then  executed  a  brilliant 
counter-attack.     Victims  were  now  wanted. 

"Some  dead  men  now,  the  ground  must  be  strewn 
with  corpses,"  ordered  the  American. 

The  excitement  of  the  troops  was  such,  though, 
that  he  had  to  repeat  his  injunctions,  in  order  to 
keep  the  corpses  lying  still  on  the  ground  until  the 
film  had  finished  turning.  These  views  appeared  in 
the  Daily  Mirror,  of  October  i,  19 14,  under  the  title 
of  "The  Defence  of  Alost, "  and  have  been  given 
in  all  the  London  Cinemas.  My  readers  may,  per- 
haps, see  them  later  on  on  the  screen  at  Brussels. 
They  will  know  then  that,  of  the  whole  story,  only 
the  bombardment  was  authentic. 

On  the  6th  of  October,  our  motor-car  came  very 
near  having  a  fine  feat  of  arms  to  its  credit.  At 
Schoonaerde,  on  the  road  from  Wetteren  to  Termonde, 
the  Germans  had  placed  a  battery  of  field  Howitzers, 
which  was  bombarding  our  trenches  on  the  left  bank 
of  the  Escaut.  The  armoured  car  7  and  the  Lancers 
were  on  observation  about  two  miles  away,  near 
Wetteren,  at  the  entrance  to  Wichelen.  Between 
Schoonaerde  and  us,  the  road  was  only  barred  by  the 
hamlet  of  Bohemen,  which  was  weakly  guarded  by 
the  enemy.  We  decided  to  attempt  a  big  venture. 
Whilst  Berlaymont,  the  man  who  feared  nothing 
went  off  by  the  railway  line  with  three  sharp-shooters 
to  attack  Bohemen,  I  rushed  into  the  hamlet  at  full 
speed  with  the  motor-car.  Some  carts  had  been 
placed  in  a  way  to  bar  the  road.  Our  car  knocked 
them  over,  and  we  were  then  within  six  hundred 
metres  of  the  enemy  battery  in  action. 

My  chief  gunner,  Heureux,  opened  fire.  It  was  a 
thing  to  see  the  way  the  artillery-men,  taken  by  enfi- 


The  No.  7  Armoured  Car         167 

lade,  came  down !  Those  who  survived,  and  there  were 
very  few  of  them,  cut  the  tethers  of  the  horses,  sprang 
on  to  their  backs,  and  made  off.  We  thought  the 
battery  was  ours,  but  alas!  it  was  not.  The  Belgian 
Artillery  saw  an  armoured  car  in  a  place  where  there 
could  only  be  Boches.  It  opened  a  quick  fire  on 
us.  Their  shells  ploughed  up  the  ground  and  our 
armoured  car  was  riddled  with  shrapnel  fragments. 
The  Belgians  aimed  too  well  and  we  were  obliged  to 
leave.  Half  an  hour  was  lost  in  telephoning  to  the 
Commander  of  the  Artillery  that  he  was  mistaken. 
We  rushed  into  Bohemen  again  and  saw  our  cannons 
once  more.     What  joy  it  was! 

But  the  Boches  had  had  time  to  cover  them.  To 
our  right,  fifty  metres  away,  the  hedge  along  the  rail- 
road was  held  by  sharp-shooters  with  a  machine-gun. 
In  front  of  us,  a  farm  and  its  kitchen  garden  on  the 
road  were  also  occupied,  and  we  were  greeted  by  a  fear- 
ful, direct  fire.  I  gave  up  my  steering  wheel,  for  when 
Berlaymont  is  not  there,  I  am  the  only  one  who  can 
drive,  and  directed  the  fighting.  Handled  by  Heureux, 
a  clever  marksman,  our  machine-gun  spit  forth  what 
was  certain  death.  The  firing  became  weaker  from 
every  place  on  which  we  turned  our  gun.  Suddenly, 
I  felt  a  double  shock  in  my  right  arm.  The  Boche 
machine-gun  had  just  presented  me  with  two  balls. 
Heaven  be  thanked,  I  had  seen  it  though,  and  Heureux 
silenced  it  by  bringing  down  its  gunners.  Suddenly, 
and  without  ceasing  his  work,  Heureux  called  out  to  his 
aid:     "Go  on  charging,  I  cannot  do  any  more." 

I  looked  and  saw  that  his  left  hand  had  been  torn 
off  by  a  dum-dum  ball.  I  had  another  terrible  shock 
myself,  this  time  in  the  head.  I  was  conscious  of 
falling  from  the  car  to  the  ground  .  .  .  and  then 


1 68  Brave  Belgians 

.  .  .  I  knew  nothing  more.  When  I  came  to  myself 
I  was  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  car,  and  my  gun  was 
still  fizzling.  It  was  being  worked  by  the  second 
gunner.  Heureux,  who  had  looked  after  me  until  I 
was  conscious  again,  said,  quite  simply : 

"Now  that  I  have  picked  you  up,  it  is  your  turn. 
You  must  drive  the  car."  It  was  by  no  means  easy. 
My  right  arm  was  useless,  and  the  blood  from  the 
open  wound  on  my  temple  half  blinded  me.  As  well 
as  I  could,  altering  the  speed  with  my  right  foot,  I 
was  able  to  start  the  car.  Under  the  fire  of  the 
Boches  I  had,  once  more,  to  overttim  the  carts  they 
had  again  put  in  place. 

At  Wichelen,  Berlaymont  joined  us  again.  He  was 
furious  that  we  had  had  an  armoured  car  fight  with- 
out him.  And  whilst  the  ambulance  took  Heureux 
and  me  off,  he  obtained  a  reserve  machine-gun, 
installed  himself  in  the  car,  all  dripping  with  blood, 
and  went  off  to  kill  a  score  of  the  Boches  who  had 
treated  his  friends  in  such  an  evil  way. 


CHAPTER  XX 

The  Wavre-St.  Catherine  Combat 

By  Sub-Lieutenant  Henroz.  in  Command  of  the  ist  Company 
OF  THE  1ST  Battalion  of  the  2nd  Regiment  of  Fortress 
Carabineers 

(September  28-Octobcr  10,   1914) 

As  the  Germans  were  harassed  by  the  Belgian  army 
and  uneasy  as  regarded  the  flank  of  their  line  of 
communication,  they  decided  to  take  their  revenge 
on  the  Antwerp  fortress,  which  was  the  refuge  of 
our  army  after  each  of  our  offensive  operations. 

At  the  end  of  September,  the  enemy  had  received  a 
reinforcement  of  troops  of  all  kinds  of  arms,  but  more 
particularly  of  siege  Artillery  and  Pioneers,  as  these 
had  been  freed  by  the  fall  of  Maubeuge. 

On  the  27th  of  September,  at  7  in  the  morning,  I 
received  orders  to  occupy  the  trenches  with  my 
Company  and  to  suspend  all  work.  My  Company 
was  in  the  interval  of  the  Dorpveld  redoubt  and  the 
Wavre-St.  Catherine  Fort.  It  was  supported  on  the 
right  by  the  Company  of  the  Staff  Deputy  Captain 
Commander  Havenith,  who  was  in  command  of  the 
interval.  The  Germans,  that  day,  had  commenced 
driving  back  the  detachment  of  the  ist  Army  Division, 
which  was  holding  the  front  of  the  line.     We  knew, 

169 


170  Brave  Belgians 

therefore,  that  they  were  going  to  attack  us,  but  we 
were  convinced  that  our  positions  were  absolutely 
inviolable,  as  we  had  organised  them  so  carefully 
and  they  were  bristling  with  engines  of  warfare  of 
every  kind.  We  awaited  the  first  contact,  therefore, 
with  the  greatest  confidence.  The  whole  day  was 
very  calm  all  around  the  Fort.  A  Belgian  aeroplane 
was  brought  down  and  fell  in  our  lines,  near  to  our 
little  post. 

Monday,  September  28th.  There  was  every  promise 
of  a  fine  day.  Far  away,  in  the  background,  two 
Boche  captive  balloons  went  up.  They  were  rocking 
about  at  the  wind's  pleasure,  in  a  threatening  way. 
We  could  hear  the  purring  of  their  motors.  Both 
these  signs  were  prophetic  of  an  imminent  attack. 
Towards  11  o'clock,  a  distant  whizzing  sound  was 
heard.  This  was  soon  transformed  into  a  thunderous 
roaring,  which  increased  all  the  time  and  finished  in 
a  formidable  explosion.  Through  the  trench  lookout, 
we  could  see,  at  about  150  metres  in  front  of  the 
Wavre-St.  Catherine  Fort,  a  column  of  smoke  at  least 
twenty  yards  high.  It  was  a  420  millimetre  which 
had  just  exploded.  Exactly  eleven  minutes  later,  a 
second  shell  fell,  with  the  same  noise,  within  fifty  yards 
of  the  glacis.  Every  man  was  ready,  and  all  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  Fort  with  anguish.  We  did  not 
have  to  wait  long  for  the  third  shell.  Eleven  minutes 
later  it  burst,  straight  on  the  Fort.  .  .  . 

"Poor  Catherine!"  said  the  men.  In  spite  of  her 
wounds,  though,  Catherine  continued  spitting  forth 
her  balls.  The  firing  of  the  420  continued,  at  intervals 
of  eleven  to  twelve  minutes,  the  whole  of  the  morning. 
During  the  afternoon,  the  firing  was  still  more  intense 
and  the  shells  then  arrived  in  salvos  of  two.     Many  of 


The  Wavre-St.  Catherine  Combat     171 

them,  fortunately  for  the  Fort,  missed  their  mark,  but 
the  resistance  was  seriously  endangered.  The  cement- 
ing and  the  plating  had  only  been  calculated  in  view  of 
a  bombardment  with  guns  of  twenty-one  centimetres 
at  the  most.  We  frequently  saw  five  or  six  of  the 
artillerymen  come  out  from  the  earthworks  and, 
between  two  storms,  climb  quickly  on  to  the  Fort 
and  fill  up  the  excavations,  made  by  the  projectiles, 
with  sacks  of  earth.  At  the  approach  of  the  next 
bolides,  they  rushed  away  again  as  quickly  as  they 
could.  Some  of  them  even,  braving  the  metal  mon- 
sters, continued  their  work.  These  courageous  men 
gave  the  soldiers  in  the  trenches  a  fine  example  of 
heroism.  We  watched  them  in  amazement  and  felt 
our  own  courage  increase.  The  bombardment  ceased 
at  exactly  4.30  in  the  afternoon.  The  cement  of  the 
Fort  was  cracked  and  the  passages  blocked  by  the 
sickening  odour  of  the  gases.  There  was  no  victim 
on  either  side.  The  Wavre-St.  Catherine  Fort  had 
received  its  baptism  of  fire. 

Tuesday,  September  2Qth.  The  ist  and  2nd  Divi- 
sions were  now  in  the  3rd  Sector,  Waelhem-Lierre; 
the  3rd  and  6th  Divisions  in  the  4th  Sector,  Waelhem- 
Escaut;  the  4th  Division  occupied  Termonde,  and  the 
5th  formed  the  general  reserve.  The  bombardment 
began  again  at  daybreak,  and  very  soon  the  huge 
shells  were  falling  thickly  on  the  Fort.  Occasionally, 
one  of  these  masses,  badly  aimed,  burst  on  the  interval. 
It  was  a  regular  earthquake.  The  ground  shook  and 
it  seemed  as  though  the  earth  were  about  to  open  and 
swallow  us  up.  Presently,  the  firing  increased  in  in- 
tensity. At  certain  moments,  the  Fort  was  cannonaded, 
at  a  speed  of  twenty  to  twenty-five  a  minute,  with 
shells  of  every  calibre.      The  noise  was  deafening. 


172  Brave  Belgians 

We  could  scarcely  hear  each  other  speak.  Everyone 
feared  for  the  Fort  and  each  time  that  a  shell  was 
"drunk  in"  by  it,  the  men  murmured:  "Poor 
Catherine!"  Towards  ten  o'clock,  the  firing  of 
shrapnels  on  to  the  interval  commenced.  Commander 
Havenith  gave  me  the  order  to  occupy  the  fighting 
trench,  with  a  section.  The  remainder  of  my  troop 
took  up  their  quarters  in  the  trench-shelter,  about 
fifty  yards  behind  us. 

During  this  change,  a  volley  of  shrapnels  fell  on  the 
communication  trench.  Four  men  were  very  slightly 
wounded,  one  of  whom  was  Sergeant  Claudot,  a 
volunteer.  We  were  obliged  to  evacuate  him.  Pre- 
sently, it  was  the  turn  of  the  Wavre-St.  Catherine 
village  to  get  its  share.  Several  of  the  volleys  made  a 
fair  number  of  victims,  some  of  whom  were  civilians. 
This  caused  a  panic  and  the  people,  terrified  and  wild 
with  fear,  rushed  off  taking  with  them  a  few  of  their 
possessions.  The  women,  in  tears,  dragged  their 
little  ones  along  with  them,  and  the  children,  without 
knowing  why,  uttered  the  most  heart-rending  cries. 
Just  as  the  darkness  was  coming  on,  several  houses 
were  in  flames.  We  were  present,  and  absolutely 
powerless,  at  this  lamentable  scene,  and  we  were 
furious  at  not  being  able  to  avenge  these  unfortunate 
people.  On  every  side,  the  cannon  was  thundering. 
The  air,  saturated  with  smoke,  was  bitter,  and  the 
odour  of  the  powder  was  suffocating.  Gradually, 
everything  became  calm  once  more  and  the  sentinels 
went  to  their  posts,  just  beyond  the  network  of 
barbed  wire.  Up  to  the  present,  our  cooking  had 
always  been  done  in  the  trench,  by  the  side  of  the 
machine-gun  shelter.  During  the  bombardment, 
a   wretched   shell    had   plunged   into    the    water   in 


The  VVavre-St.  Catherine  Combat    173 

which  the  soup  was  cooking,  and  had  scattered  the 
meat  and  broth  everywhere.  As  all  communication 
with  our  rear  w^as  cut,  it  was  impossible  to  get  fresh 
food.  I  advised  my  men  to  be  economical  with  what 
they  still  had  and,  above  all,  to  keep  their  reserve 
rations  at  any  cost.  They  were  quite  calm,  unmindful 
of  the  danger  they  had  run  during  the  day,  and  they 
did  not  protest  in  the  least.  They  went  bravely  to 
their  observation  posts,  whilst  their  comrades  took  a 
little  rest.  The  night  passed  by  without  any  incident. 
Wednesday,  September  joih.  The  Company  was  still 
occupying  the  same  position.  The  sun  had  scarcely 
risen,  when  the  bombarding  of  the  Forts,  of  the  inter- 
val, and  of  the  redoubt  began  as  fresh  as  ever.  A 
reinforcement  arrived  for  me,  the  2nd  Company  of 
the  3rd  Battalion  of  the  6th  Line  Regiment,  which  at 
once  occupied  the  shelter  trench.  More  than  three 
hundred  men  were  huddled  together  in  this  hole.  I 
began  to  fear  a  42  dropping  on  this  trench.  What  a 
horrible  carnage  it  would  be!  I  trembled  to  think  of 
the  danger  my  men  were  in.  They  never  even  thought 
of  this  themselves.  They  were  delighted  about  the 
unexpected  reinforcement  and  their  one  idea  was 
victory.  Shells  of  every  calibre  were  raining  down 
from  every  side,  and  shell-mines  were  exploding  with 
a  frightful  noise.  The  firing  was  getting  more  exact 
and  reached  our  parapet.  The  trench  shook,  and  I 
wondered  whether  it  would  fall  in.  Fragments  of  the 
shells  fell  at  ouj  feet,  and  suddenly  one  shell  hit 
the  trench.  As  soon  as  the  smoke  was  dispersed, 
we  saw,  with  horror,  that  several  men  were  buried 
under  the  debris.  We  could  hear  them  calling 
out  and,  for  the  first  moment,  we  all  remained 
motionless,  riveted  to  the  spot  in  stupor  and  horror. 


174  Brave  Belgians 


Then  several  men  rushed  to  the  rescue  of  their  com- 
rades. I  advanced  and  saw  that  our  poor  Vander 
Stappen  had  been  decapitated.  His  head  lay  intact 
at  his  feet.  Three  others,  one  of  whom  was  Sergeant 
Dooms,  were  seriously  wounded.  The  shells  continued 
to  arrive  in  showers.  It  was  frightful!  The  men 
were  lying  down  on  the  ground,  with  their  blankets 
over  their  heads  to  protect  them  from  the  shell  frag- 
ments, and  in  order  that  they  might  not  see  an^i^hing. 
A  soldier,  near  me,  took  out  of  his  pocket-book  the 
portrait  of  his  wife  and  children.  There  were  three 
of  them  grouped  around  their  mother.  During  this 
infernal  bombardment,  the  poor  man,  seeing  death  so 
near,  wanted  to  see  his  own  family  once  more.  With 
tears  in  his  eyes,  he  shook  his  head  sadly.  I  sat  down 
by  him  and,  in  a  few  words,  I  managed  to  revive  his 
courage.  He  got  up  suddenly  and,  shaking  his  fist 
in  the  enemy's  direction,  called  out:  "Come  on  then, 
you  vile  Boches,  we  shall  see  whether  you  are  as  good 
with  the  bayonet  as  with  your  42."  He  had  scarcely 
uttered  the  last  word,  when  a  still  more  formidable 
explosion  than  all  the  others  made  us  start.  The 
powder  room  of  the  Fort  had  been  blown  up.  Poor 
Catherine!  Our  Artiller}^  placed  in  the  intervals, 
although  like  us  subjected  to  a  violent  bombardment, 
was  answering  courageously.  Our  men  were  en- 
couraged by  this;  they  felt  they  were  being  supported. 
It  was  now  exactly  11.45.  -^  breathless  messenger 
arrived  and,  with  a  trembling  hand,  gave  me  a  sealed 
letter.  It  was  an  order  from  the  Commander  of  the 
fortified  position  of  Antwerp. 

"  In  spite  of  the  bombardment,  no  matter  how  terri- 
ble it  may  be,  you  must  resist  to  the  uttermost,  even 
to  death!"     Good,  we  will  resist! 


The  Wavre-St  Catherine  Combat     175 

I  dismissed  the  messenger,  a  boy  of  eighteen. 
Without  troubling  in  the  least  about  the  shells  and 
shrapnels,  he  hurried  back  to  his  post.  The  Germans 
were  still  bombarding  the  Dorpveld  redoubt  furi- 
ously. A  42  fell  on  a  house  near  the  Fort.  Nothing 
was  left  of  it  but  a  heap  of  ruins,  and  some  of  the 
bricks  fell  into  our  trench.  The  hours  passed  by  and 
the  day  gradually  came  to  an  end.  In  the  evening, 
the  cannonading  was  less  intense  and  the  soldiers 
took  advantage  of  this  to  move  about  and  stretch 
their  limbs.  They  were  gay,  glad  to  see  each  other 
again,  and  to  have  escaped  death.  They  were  also 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  Boches  most  hopefully. 
The  results  of  the  day's  combat  had  been:  one  killed 
and  five  wounded.  When  once  the  little  posts  were 
all  organised,  everyone  was  on  the  watch.  None 
of  the  men  wanted  to  rest.  They  were  convinced 
that  there  would  be  a  night  attack  and  they  all  wanted 
to  be  there,  in  order  to  fire  the  first  shot,  and  to  re- 
ceive the  enemy  in  a  proper  way.  Contrary  to  our 
expectation,  the  night  passed  by  without  inci- 
dent, exceot  for  a  few  patrols  being  seen  near  the 
village. 

Thursday,  October  ist.  The  Company  occupied 
the  same  post.  The  bombardment,  both  in  the 
intervals  and  on  the  positions  in  the  rear,  began  again 
and  was  still  more  terrible  than  on  the  preceding  days. 
The  Boches  poured  down  upon  us  their  projectiles 
of  every  calibre.  Our  men  remained  there  un- 
daunted, in  spite  of  showers  of  shot.  The  bat- 
teries replied  all  the  time.  The  Forts  alone  were 
silent,  as  they  had  been  completely  destroyed. 
The  bombardment  continued  with  the  most  intense 
violence,  as  though  the  enemy  wanted  to  crush  us 


176  Brave  Belgians 

completely,  by  means  of  the  heavy  artillery,  against 
which  we  were,  of  course,  powerless.  The  noise  was 
beyond  all  description.  In  less  than  twenty  minutes, 
I  counted  three  men  killed  and  about  ten  wounded. 
My  trench  seemed  likely  to  be  entirely  destroyed  and, 
at  all  costs,  it  was  necessary  to  repair  it.  At  my 
request,  several  volunteers  came  forward  and,  in 
spite  of  the  bombardment,  worked  energetically. 
The  losses  were  great,  but  not  a  man  dreamed  of 
budging  from  his  post.  The  order  had  come  to  resist 
to  the  uttermost,  to  hold  out  in  spite  of  everything, 
and  we  intended  to  obey.  We  were  resolved  to  die 
at  our  posts  if  necessary.  The  shells  continued 
all  the  time  to  rain  down  on  us.  In  the  village  of 
Wavre-St.  Catherine,  the  ravages  were  terrible.  The 
whole  locality  trembled  under  a  continuous  roar  like 
thunder.  It  was  in  this  hell  that  the  soldiers  entrusted 
with  the  defence  had  to  hold  out.  Sub-Lieutenant 
Blanckaert  and  his  gunners  were  stationed  near  the 
church.  They  took  shelter  as  best  they  could,  and  one 
of  the  most  imposing  sights  was  their  coolness  under 
the  infernal  bombardment.  The  enemy  Artillery, 
with  its  usual  sacrilegious  rage,  aimed  at  the 
Church,  which  was  still  standing.  The  steeple  was 
just  hit  and  some  houses  near  fell  in  ruins.  From  time 
to  time,  a  more  formidable  explosion  was  heard,  and 
someone  would  remark  simply:  "That's  another 
42."  It  was  very  evident  that  the  enemy  was  en- 
deavouring to  render  our  positions  impossible  by  the 
intensity  of  the  bombarding,  hoping  thus  to  demoralise 
us.  In  our  poor  trench,  which  shook  and  rocked  in  a 
way  calculated  to  give  us  all  sea-sickness,  the  sight 
was  terrifying.  Each  time  that  a  shell  of  big  calibre 
struck  it,  whole  positions  gave  way,  burying  together 


The  Wavre-St.  Catherine  Combat     177 

the  dead,  the  wounded,  and  the  living.     Two,  three, 
and  four  huge  shells  a  minute  fell  on  it. 

The  captain  of  the  6th  Line  Regiment,  M.  Bisschop,  ^ 
fell  at  my  side,  with  his  shoulder  shattered.  In 
the  trenches,  the  men  held  out,  in  spite  of  the  horrible 
nervous  tension,  of  thirst,  of  the  sight  of  their  com- 
rades cut  up,  and  of  the  plaintive  moans  of  the 
wounded.  Sergeant-Major  Demarche  was  also 
wounded.  Our  batteries  were  firing  at  full  speed, 
but  they  too  suffered,  as  the}'-  were  sighted  by  the 
accursed  captive  balloons.  Shrapnels  and  mine- 
shells  burst  over  our  cannons,  which  were  destroyed, 
one  after  the  other.  Our  brave  gunners  lay  there  at 
the  side  of  them.  It  was  horrible!  The  situation 
grew  more  and  more  critical.  In  the  absence  of  the 
Captain  of  the  6th  Line  Regiment,  who  had  been 
evacuated,  I  had  to  take  command  of  the  trench. 
At  exactly  2.30  in  the  afternoon,  we  suddenly  saw  two 
men  in  the  wire  network,  two  hundred  yards  in  front 
of  the  Fort.  They  were  certainly  Boches,  but  what 
were  they  doing  there,  as  their  own  shells  were  falling 
near  them  ?  Three  volleys  were  fired  from  the  trench 
of  Captain  Commander  A.  E.  M.  Havenith.  One 
of  the  Boches  fell  and  got  up  again.  He  fell  a  second 
time,  and  the  other  one  made  off.  A  quarter  of  an 
hour  later  he  returned,  accompanied  by  two  comrades, 
wearing  an  armlet  and  waving  a  Red  Cross  flag. 
Not  a  shot  was  fired,  and  the  wounded  man  was 
taken  to  the  German  lines.  The  bombardment  con- 
tinued and  was  only  less  intense  towards  nightfall. 
The  Commander  of  the  Fort,  who  had  evacuated  his 
stronghold,  took  advantage  of  the  lull  to  go  back  to  it, 
but  it  was  partly  destroyed.   The  heavy  shield  of  a  cu- 

'  In  spite  of  several  operations  the  Captain  is  still  crippled. 


178  Brave  Belgians 

pola  of  fifteen  centimetres  had  completely  disappeared, 

and  its  ruins  were  also  on  fire.  I  had  the  dead  buried, 
and  the  wounded  taken  away.  Towards  five  o'clock,  I 
received  an  order  from  the  Commander  of  the  inter- 
val to  occupy  the  fighting  trench  with  the  two 
Companies.  An  attack  was  expected  during  the  night. 
When  once  my  observation  sentinels  were  at  their 
posts,  we  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  Germans.  We 
took  advantage  of  a  moment's  lull  to  eat  something. 
The  men  had  nothing  left  but  their  last  reserve 
rations.  We  did  not  know  what  we  should  do  for 
eatables  the  following  day.  The  men  were  very  thirsty, 
their  throats  were  parched,  and  there  was  no  water. 
Some  of  them  found  some  behind  the  trench.  It 
was  rather  muddy,  but  that  did  not  matter,  as  it 
refreshed  them.  Guessing  that  I,  too,  was  thirsty, 
one  of  the  brave  fellows  offered  me  his  flask. 

"Thanks,"  I  replied,  "keep  it  for  to-morrow.  I 
am  not  thirsty." 

"But,  Lieutenant,  there  is  sugar  with  it!!!"  he 
insisted. 

I  was  just  on  my  way  to  visit  my  posts,  and  had 
scarcely  gone  twenty  steps  when  a  Corporal  arrived. 

"Lieutenant,"  he  said,  "the  Boches  are  there, 
near  the  wire." 

I  listened  and  sure  enough  the  bells  fastened  to  the 
wire  were  tinkling.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it. 
They  were  there.  I  gave  the  command,  "Fire!" 
and  my  men  opened  a  vigorous  firing  on  the  wire  net- 
work. It  was  a  hellish  firing.  The  bullets  cut  the 
wire  and  thousands  of  sparks  were  soon  flying.  The 
redoubt,  that  everyone  believed  destroyed,  was  soon 
aglow  like  a  furnace  and  sent  showers  of  shot  on  the 
enemy.     My    men    shouted    "Victory!"    and    were 


The  Wavre-St  Catherine  Combat    179 

delighted  to  open  fire,  but  furious  at  not  seeing  any 
Boches.  The  night  was  as  black  as  ink  and  we  could 
not  see  two  yards  in  front  of  us. 

The  Germans,  surprised  in  their  attack,  replied 
energetically,  but  they  fired  over  us.  Three  quarters 
of  an  hour  later,  all  was  calm  once  more.  From  time 
to  time,  a  few  enemy  balls  fell  behind  us,  as  though 
they  were  aimed  at  a  wall  which  did  not  exist.  We 
all  had  the  same  impression.  They  were  explosive 
bullets.  Several  patrols  were  sent  to  search  in  the 
neighbourhood.  I  let  half  of  the  men  rest.  As  I  had 
scarcely  any  ammunition  left,  I  sent  Sergeant-Major 
Cromphout  to  ask  Captain  Commander  Havenith 
to  let  me  have  some  cartridges  without  fail.  I  learnt 
afterwards  that  the  Sergeant-Major  never  arrived. 
What  happened  to  him?  Was  he  killed,  or  had  he 
only  disappeared?  The  night  passed  by  without 
any  other  event. 

October  2nd.  At  daybreak,  the  enemy's  heavy 
artillery  recommenced  its  destructive  firing.  The 
Duffel  bridge  was  attacked  by  shells  of  13  centi- 
metres. More  than  250  shells  fell  on  the  station  in 
less  than  two  hours  and  a  half.  The  Wavre-St. 
Catherine  Fort  and  the  Dorpveld  redoubt  were 
covered  afresh  with  projectiles.  These  were  the 
preliminaries  of  an  Infantry  attack.  Towards  6.45, 
over  two  hundred  men  appeared,  marching  in  close 
ranks,  on  the  Malines  road  and,  crossing  the  fields, 
went  at  full  speed  in  the  direction  of  the  redoubt. 
I  at  once  commanded  quick  firing.  My  men  aimed 
well  and,  at  two  hundred  yards'  distance,  whole  ranks 
were  mown  down.  These  were  quickly  replaced  by 
others,  which,  in  their  turn  fell  under  the  firing  of 
our    Mausers.      Suddenly,    the  whole  band  stopped 


i8o  Brave  Belgians 

short  and  a  few  men  began  waving  Belgian  flags  and 
white  flags.  We  could  now  distinguish  their  uniforms 
better  and  we  saw  that  these  belonged  to  our  Line 
Regiments. 

"Stop  firing  they  are  our  men!"  called  out  the 
soldiers.  Instead  of  this,  I  gave  orders  to  continue 
firing.  The  Germans  had  once  more  violated  the 
laws  of  warfare,  by  clothing  their  troops  in  our  uni- 
forms, stolen  from  our  depots.  The  firing  began 
again  more  violently  now  than  before  and,  of  all  these 
troops,  only  about  thirty  men  reached  the  redoubt 
and  at  once  hid  in  the  ditches.  One  of  them,  who  was 
carrying  posters,  put  these  up  at  the  top  of  the  re- 
doubt, the  inside  towards  the  enemy.  I  could  not 
read  signals  of  this  kind.  The  firing  ceased  and, 
ten  minutes  later,  one  of  the  posters  fell  and  about 
twenty  Germans  then  made  off  in  the  direction  of  their 
lines.  A  few  seconds  later,  we  heard  the  mac-mac 
of  their  machine-guns  placed  above  the  redoubt. 
They  were  turned  in  our  direction  and  their  balls 
pierced  our  loopholes.  Sergeant  Chaignot,  a  vol- 
unteer, who  had  his  gun  pointed  at  one  of  the 
machine-guns,  fell  down  dead,  hit  in  the  forehead. 
This  brave  boy,  who  was  only  just  seventeen,  was  the 
only  son  of  a  widow.  A  short  lull  enabled  me  to  have 
our  wounded  men  evacuated. 

The  enemy  now  only  bombarded  our  positions  in 
the  rear.  Just  when  the  German  Artillery  began  to 
lengthen  its  firing  range,  the  enemy  Infantry  suddenly 
emerged  from  somewhere,  yelling!  "Hoch!"  They 
rushed  towards  the  Wavre-St.  Catherine  Fort.  I  had 
orders  to  hold  out  to  the  uttermost,  but,  as  I  was 
turned  on  my  right  and  had  scarcely  any  cartridges 
left,  it  was  evident  that  I  should  be  surrounded.     To 


The  Wavre-St.  Catherine  Combat    i8i 

the  right,  Captain-Commander  Havenith,  who  was 
outflanked,  was  falling  back  in  good  order.  There 
was  no  safety  for  me,  therefore,  on  that  side.  I  saw 
that  I  should  be  compelled  to  beat  a  retreat  in  the 
direction  of  the  chapel,  some  five  hundred  yards  be- 
hind our  line.  Corporal  Deron  and  about  ten  men 
remained  behind  to  continue  firing  until  the  last  soldier 
had  left  the  trench. 

I  have  to  deplore  the  loss  of  many  victims.  The 
accursed  machine-guns  of  the  redoubt  mowed  down 
about  twenty  of  my  men.  Many  of  them  were 
wounded  and,  as  we  could  not  take  them  away,  they 
remained,  unfortunately,  in  the  hands  of  the  Germans. 
When  we  had  reached  the  post  at  the  chapel,  which 
was  our  second  line,  I  gave  orders  to  occupy  the  new 
trench.  We  had  not  time  to  do  this,  as  about  fifty 
Teutons,  whom  I  had  not  seen,  fired,  from  their  am- 
bush, at  our  flank  and  several  of  my  men  fell.  We 
were  compelled  to  retreat  again,  leaving  our  wounded 
behind.  We  were  pursued  as  far  as  Poupelaerstraat, 
where,  worn  out  and  exhausted,  my  Company  halted 
for  a  short  rest. 

We  were  all  thankful  to  have  escaped  the  enemy. 
If  we  had  stayed  five  minutes  longer  in  the  trenches, 
we  should  all  have  been  prisoners.  I  next  went  in  the 
direction  of  Elzemtraat,  to  our  concentration  spot, 
the  Duffel  bridge.  On  entering  the  village,  I  met 
Captain-Commander  Havenith.  He  was  glad  to  see 
me  again  after  these  terrible  days.  He  congratulated 
me  on  having  held  out  valiantly  with  my  men  during 
the  five  days  of  furious  bombardment,  and  on  having 
fallen  back  in  good  order.  During  the  rest  that  I 
gave  to  my  men,  I  found  that  seventy-five  soldiers  were 
missing  at  the  general  roll-call.     They  had  been  killed 


1 82  Brave  Belgians 

or  wounded,  or  had  disappeared.  Two  officers  only 
remained,  First  Sergeant  Coppens  and  I.  We  thought 
we  had  earned  a  few  days'  rest  in  the  rear,  but,  as 
soon  as  we  had  been  supplied  again  with  cartridges 
and  provisions,  we  received  orders  to  take  up  our 
position  once  more  between  Wavre-St.  Catherine 
and  Duffel. 

We  were  greeted  there  by  a  fresh  bombardment. 
Outflanked  on  our  right,  in  the  direction  of  Wael- 
hem,  we  were  obliged  to  fall  back  on  Duffel.  It 
took  us  some  time  to  pass  through  this  village,  as 
it  was  being  bombarded  by  shells  of  big  calibre.  We 
soon  received  orders  to  fall  back  at  any  cost.  We 
went  along  quickly,  crossed  the  Duffel  bridge,  v/hich 
was  being  shelled  with  absolute  frenzy.  We  rushed 
along  like  a  hurricane  and  drew  up  beyond  the  village, 
without  having  lost  a  single  man.  We  were  then 
ordered  to  fall  back  on  Linth,  where  we  arrived  in  the 
evening.  Commander  Havenith  had  received  the 
same  order.  The  rest  of  the  regiment  was  there.  I 
was  present  when  the  chief  of  the  Corps  congratulated 
Sergeant  Delobbel  on  his  fine  conduct  under  fire, 
and  his  bravery  during  the  bombardment.  At  the 
risk  of  his  own  life,  he  had  saved  his  Commander 
(Commander  Van  der  Minnen),  who  had  been  buried 
in  the  trench.  Another  feat  of  this  sub-officer  de- 
serves to  be  recorded.  His  Company  was  just  between 
the  Koningshoyckt  Fort  and  the  Borsbeek  redoubt. 
The  gunners  of  a  75  battery,  which  supported  the 
trench  on  the  left,  had  left  their  cannons  behind. 
These  cannons  would  be  extremely  useful  against  the 
German  cannons  and  the  Boche  Infantry,  which  was 
installed  only  eight  hundred  yards  away  from  the 
position. 


The  Wavre-St.  Catherine  Combat     183 

Without  any  hesitation,  carried  away  by  his  patrio- 
tism, Delobbel,  who  knew  how  to  handle  a  cannon, 
offered  himself  for  putting  the  battery  into  action 
again.  With  three  men,  one  of  whom  was  a  wounded 
gimner,  he  went  to  the  battery.  All  the  defences  were 
shattered  and  there  was  no  longer  any  earthwork  to 
count  on.  Under  the  direct  fire  of  the  Infantry  and  the 
big  cannons,  Sergeant  Delobbel  wanted  to  begin  firing 
at  six  hundred  yards,  but  unfortunately  the  gunners 
had  unfastened  the  breeches  and  other  parts  before 
leaving.  With  the  straps  of  their  knapsacks,  the 
brave  fellows  improvised  what  was  necessary  and 
very  soon  their  cannons  opened  an  infernal  fire. 
Unfortunately,  exposed  to  the  firing  of  the  Infantry, 
two  of  the  improvised  gunners  were  disabled  and  a 
fragment  of  shrapnel  killed  the  third.  Two  can- 
nons were  thus  useless,  but  our  sub-officer  continued 
alone,  and  the  shells  fell  fast  on  the  Boches.  Very 
soon,  though,  completely  exhausted,  fired  at  fiercely 
from  ambush  and  his  last  cannon  destroyed,  he  was 
obliged  to  burrow,  and  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
return  to  the  trench  until  the  evening.  Needless  to 
describe  the  welcome  he  received  there! 


CHAPTER  XXI 
The  Death-Struggle  of  Lierre  Fort 

By  an  Officer  of  the  Garrison 

No  harvest  of  impressions  will  be  found  in  this 
account,  for,  although  it  might  seem  that  the  garrison 
of  a  Fort  must  be  crowded  together  within  the  narrow 
surface  occupied  by  the  building,  it  is  in  reality  dis- 
persed everywhere:  three  men  here,  ten  there,  in  the 
cupolas,  in  the  munition  stores,  at  the  observation 
posts.  Each  man  is  in  his  special  department  and  the 
contact  is  much  less  close  than  among  the  troops  in 
campaign. 

When,  on  account  of  the  destruction  of  certain 
parts  of  the  Fort,  the  garrison  comes  gradually  nearer 
together,  the  moral  tension,  the  lack  of  sleep,  the 
irregularity  of  the  alimentation  transform  the  garri- 
son into  a  passive  troop  under  an  avalanche  of  blows. 
The  men  are  still  capable  of  reaction  and  of  desperate 
efforts,  but  the  efforts  are  silent  and,  as  it  were, 
mechanical.  Those  who  have  never  lived  through 
such  hours  can  never  know  the  intensity  of  the  suffer- 
ing endured  by  the  defenders  of  the  Fort. 

September  27,  IQ14.  The  cannon  is  roaring  in  the 
distance  and  appears  to  be  coming  nearer.     We  can 

184 


The  Dcath-Struggle  of  Lierre  Fort  185 

hear  Waelhem  and  Wavrc-St.  Catherine  firing  quite 
distinctly.  Huge  tufts  of  white  smoke  rise  above 
the  trees  in  the  distance.  The  Malines  Tower  has 
disappeared  entirely  in  the  smoke. 

For  the  last  few  days,  every  man  has  been  at  his 
post.  German  troops,  probably  on  patrol,  have  been 
signalled  to  us  by  our  watchers,  at  a  distance  of  more 
than  8500  yards  from  the  Fort.  They  are  too  far 
away  for  us  to  do  anything.  The  attack  is  imminent. 
Our  men  are  resolute  and  their  one  wish  is  to  open 
fire. 

The  day  and  night  have  passed  without  any  incident. 
September  28th.  The  morning  has  been  calm  for  us. 
The  cannon  is  roaring  all  the  time.  Ovir  telephonic 
communications  inform  us  that  Waelhem  and  Wavre- 
St.  Catherine  are  being  bombarded  violently.  At  two 
in  the  afternoon,  our  observation  posts  signal  to  us 
the  occupation,  by  enemy  groups,  of  localities  within 
our  radius  of  action.  The  cupolas  of  fifteen  centi- 
metres open  fire  and  will  continue  until  evening. 

The  first  firing  of  our  cannon  was  a  veritable  relief. 
The  nervous  tension,  caused  by  waiting,  is  over,  and 
the  whole  Fort  is  gay  and  animated. 

At  8  o'clock,  bombardment  by  the  Forts  of  the 
agglomerations  along  the  Aerschot  road,  where  we 
had  been  informed  that  the  enemy  was  quartered. 
There  has  been  no  reply  from  the  enemy. 
The  aviation  had  informed  us  of  the  construction  of 
siege  batteries  within  our  defence  sector.      We  could 
do  nothing  against  them,  on  account  of  the  distance. 
September  29th.     With  the  exception  of  our  firing 
yesterday,  all  has  been  calm. 

At  7.30  this  morning, characteristic  whizzing  sounds 
warned  us  that  shells  were  passing  over  the  Fort. 


1 86  Brave  Belgians 

The  explosions  took  place  a  long  way  off,  probably 
at  Lierre.  The  screen  of  trees  hides  the  town  from 
us.  By  telephone,  we  heard  that  shells  were  falling  at 
the  gates  of  Louvain.  Before  long,  it  was  our  turn. 
Shrapnels  came  first,  and  their  strident,  metallic  explo- 
sion surprised  our  men.  Presently  shells  burst  on 
the  masonry  of  the  barracks.  Our  T.  S.  F.  antenna 
is  cut.  This  is  the  first  phase  of  our  isolation.  We 
are  replying  vigorously  to  the  enemy's  fire. 

At  II  o'clock,  suspension  of  the  firing.  The  men 
brought  into  the  firing  gallery  fragments  of  shells  and 
shrapnels,  bullets  and  fuses.  From  one  of  the  fuses, 
we  found  that  the  measurement  of  the  Germans  is  at 
5200  yards,  which  is  the  average  of  our  own  measure- 
ment on  the  batteries  indicated. 

At  2  o'clock,  the  firing  on  both  sides  began  again. 
We  received  projectiles  of  13  centimetres  by  5,  one  of 
which  had  fused  and  came  rolling  in  front  of  our  office. 
The  town  of  Lierre  was  still  being  bombarded  and  we 
were  informed  that  the  civil  hospital  had  been  struck 
and  that  eight  persons  had  been  killed. 

At  5  o'clock,  suspension  of  the  firing.  At  7.30, 
renewal  which  did  not  last  long  and  was  not  very 
efficacious. 

With  all  this  the  Fort  has  not  suffered  much. 
There  are  a  number  of  holes,  chiefly  in  the  barracks 
masonry,  above  which  simili-cupolas  had  been  installed. 
A  cupola  of  fifteen  centimetres  had  been  grazed 
and  a  few  window-panes  broken.  All  is  well  and  the 
spirits  of  the  men  excellent.  They, are  getting  bolder 
and  bolder  and  we  are  compelled  to  stop  them 
moving  about  in  the  open. 

Sixty-four  shells  have  struck  the  Fort.  We  learned, 
by  telephone,  in  the  evening,  that  Wavre-St.Catherine 


The  Death-Struggle  of  Lierre  Fort  187 

Fort,  shattered  by  fomiidable  shells,  had  been  evacu- 
ated. We  have  heard  nothing  about  the  Waelhem 
Fort.  It  has  no  doubt  met  with  the  same  fate. 
This  sad  news  was  only  announced  to  the  officers. 

At  1 1 .30,  an  observerVarned  us  of  the  approach  of  a 
column  by  the  Aerschot  road.  We  accordingly  fired 
on  this  road  and  the  land  around  until  about  1.30. 

September  30th.  At  3.40,  a  grouping  of  enemy  troops 
was  announced  to  us  beyond  the  village  of  Konings- 
hoyckt.  At  the  same  time  the  Fort  of  that  name  and 
the  Tallaert  redoubt,  which  were  both  being  attacked, 
appealed  for  support  to  the  Lierre  Fort.  Acting 
on  information  from  them,  and  with  the  aid  of  their 
interval  observatories,  we  opened  fire  which  con- 
tinued until  6  o'clock.  There  was  no  sleep  for  any 
one  at  night,  and  this  will  not  be  the  last  night  of 
the  kind.  From  henceforth  there  will  be  no  more  rest 
for  us. 

At  8  o'clock,  the  bombardment  recommenced,  not 
only  on  the  Lierre  Fort  but  also  on  the  interval  con- 
structions and  on  the  forts  and  redoubts  to  our 
right.  A  few  shrapnels  came  first,  and  then  a  deluge 
of  shells  of  every  calibre.  Not  a  single  pane  of  glass 
could  resist  this,  and  the  very  ground  shook  under  our 
feet.  This  sensation  of  springy  ground  will  continue 
for  several  days  after  the  bombardment. 

At  II  o'clock,  utter  silence.  The  interior  plat- 
forms are  damaged  and  all  circulation  within  the 
Fort  is  difficult,  but  our  armament  is  still  in  perfect 
condition. 

At  12.20,  there  was  an  ominous  whizzing  sound 
first,  and  then  a  noise  like  an  express  train  at  full 
speed.  The  projectile  fell  above  the  barracks  with  a 
formidable  detonation.     After  this,  a  shower  of  cement 


1 88  Brave  Belgians 

and  of  masonry  fell  on  the  whole  of  the  Fort.  We 
have  just  received  the  first  420  shell.  Without  inter- 
mittence  until  6  o'clock,  a  similar  projectile  has 
arrived  every  six  minutes.  We  have  received  fift^'^-seven 
of  them  in  this  way.  The  craters  measured  from  8  to 
10  metres  in  diameter.  The  stoppers  were  flung  50 
metres  up  in  the  air  and  they  came  down  again  like 
fresh  projectiles.  One  of  the  first  of  these  shells  fell 
near  us.  The  lower  part,  thrown  vertically,  fell 
on  the  edge  of  the  crater.  Its  dimensions  were 
remarkable.  The  fitter  was  told  to  go,  after  the  bom- 
bardment and  bring  this  in,  in  order  to  weigh  and 
measure  it.  He  went  off  at  once,  during  the  bom- 
bardment, and  after  twenty  minutes  of  effort  dragged 
the  piece  into  the  office.  He  was  reproved  for  this 
unnecessary  imprudence.  The  soldier  replied  simply: 
"But  it  was  not  hot!"  This  piece  measured  388 
millimetres  in  diameter  and  weighed  66  kilogrammes. 
Other  fragments  picked  up  had  sharp  edges:  one  of 
them  measured  85  centimetres  in  length.  The  explo- 
sion produced  a  black,  bitter,  and  very  dense  smoke, 
which  curled  round  on  the  ground  and  was  very  slow 
in  dispersing. 

The  interior  telephonic  communications  are  still 
practicable,  with  the  exception  of  the  battery  adjoining 
the  glacis  of  the  semi-front  left  gorge. 

The  barracks  have  partially  given  way  and  the 
officers'  pavilion  is  cut  in  two.  This  does  not  trouble 
us,  as  these  places  were  evacuated  a  few  days  ago  and 
orders  were  given  not  to  stay  in  them.  From  the 
caponier  of  the  front  gorge,  we  were  told  by  tele- 
phone that  the  vault  was  cracked  and  that  the  stoke 
holes  were  obstructed  by  earth,  and  also  by  the  debris 
of  masonry  thrown  up  by  the  explosions  in  the  immedi- 


The  Death-Struggle  of  Lierre  Fort  189 

ate  vicinity.  This  was  evacuated.  As  to  the  cupola  of 
fifteen  centimetres  on  the  left,  we  were  informed  that 
the  cuirass  of  5  cent.  7  of  the  salient  I.  had  been  thrown 
up  in  the  air  and  had  fallen  about  twenty  yards  from 
the  tower.  A  shell  had  fallen  in  front  of  the  postern 
entrance,  about  fifty  yards  long,  and  the  compression 
of  air  had  caused  this  damage.  A  cannon  of  8  cent.  7, 
placed  for  firing  at  aeroplanes  and  Zeppelins,  had  .been 
flung  from  its  position,  the  gun  carriage  had  been 
entirely  turned  round  and  one  wheel  broken. 

When  the  bombardment  ceased,  we  rushed  out  to 
see  for  ourselves  what  the  damages  were,  whilst  our 
cannons  continued  firing  in  order  to  relieve  the 
Koningshoyckt  Fort,  which  had  several  of  its  pieces 
too  much  injured  to  use,  and  also  the  Tallacrt  re- 
doubt, which  was  threatened  with  a  frontal  attack. 

The  archways  were  cracked  everywhere  and  the 
paving-stones  were  torn  up  out  of  the  ground,  which 
was  all  furrowed  and  broken  up.  Some  of  the  com- 
munication passages  were  destroyed.  The  diameter 
of  the  craters  was  greater  than  the  distance  which 
separated  the  jambs.  These  were  all  weakened  and 
the  heavy  cement  arches,  deprived  of  their  support, 
were  absolutely  broken,  as  though  they  had  been 
hacked  by  a  gigantic  blow  from  an  axe.  This  bom- 
bardment had  not  disturbed  the  equanimity  of  the 
soldiers  much. 

When  the  masonry  or  the  cement  was  struck,  a 
shower  of  bricks  and  of  shingle  covered  the  Fort, 
poiuing  through  all  the  openings  violently.  The  first 
time  this  happened,  two  men  who  were  at  the  entrance 
of  a  postern  were  bruised  by  the  shingles.  A  jocular 
man  remarked :  ' '  Good,  now  they  are  putting  pebbles 
in  their  shells!" 


iQo  Brave  Belgians 

We  heard  groans  though  from  the  barrack  ruins, 
and  we  dragged  out  one  wounded  man  and  two  who 
had  been  killed.  They  were  civilian  workmen  who 
had  come  there  to  install  loud-speaking  telephon.s. 

The  wounded  man  told  us  that  two  or  three  men, 
one  of  whom  was  a  soldier,  were  under  the  ruins  of 
what  had  served  as  a  mess-room  for  the  troop.  It 
was  impossible  to  get  them  out  from  under  the  heaps 
of  ruins. 

The  battery  of  the  glacis  was  destroyed  by  two 
projectiles.  We  found  neither  dead  nor  living  men 
there.  What  had  become  of  the  gunners?  All  was 
not  lost,  however,  as,  with  the  exception  of  the  cupola 
of  5  cent.  7  of  salient  I.  all  our  defence  works  are  still 
in  good  condition  and  our  men  do  not  manifest  any 
anxiety. 

October  ist.  In  obedience  to  orders  from  our 
chief,  and  together  with  the  neighbouring  forts  and 
the  interval  batteries,  we  opened  a  rapid  fire  of  twenty 
minutes'  duration,  at  2  and  at  4  o'clock,  on  the  locali- 
ties and  the  roads  in  front  of  our  line  of  defence. 

At  7  o'clock  we  buried  our  dead. 

From  8  o'clock,  the  intervals,  the  Koningshoyckt 
Fort  and  the  Tallaert  redoubt  were  actively  bom- 
barded. Our  turn  did  not  come  until  10.15.  Only 
nine  projectiles  were  sent  to  us. 

At  I  o'clock  the  bombardment  began  again  and,  as 
on  the  previous  day,  a  shell  came  every  six  minutes. 

Towards  3  o'clock,  the  semi-caponier  on  the 
right  was  hit.  The  aim  had  been  shortened,  as  the 
firing  had  hitherto  generally  been  directed  at  the  left 
half  of  the  Fort.  Most  of  the  men  had  taken  refuge 
in  the  right  half.  On  this  account,  no  one  was 
wounded,  but  the  fifteen  centimetre  cupola  was  disabled 


The  Death-Struggle  of  Lierre  Fort  191 

by  the  blocks  of  cement  coming  from  the  half  de- 
molished tower.  vSome  of  these  blocks  measured 
nearly  a  cubic  yard.  The  men  were  quickly  evacuated 
to  the  front. 

A  gunner,  bringing  information  bulletins,  now 
arrived  all  covered  with  mud.  As  the  cupolas  had 
been  covered  with  soaked  earth,  the  men  thought  that 
he  must  have  taken  this  covering  off  by  crawling 
over  the  cupola,  and  his  comrades  blamed  him  for 
this.  The  good  fellow  was  surprised  at  their  accusa- 
tion, as  he  had  simply  rolled  into  a  crater  under  the 
firing,  and  this  was  why  he  was  in  such  a  muddy 
state. 

The  bombardment  continued  and  we  saw  that  our 
intact  shelters  were  becoming  fewer  and  fewer.  The 
Artillery  Commander  fell  into  a  crater.  He  could 
not  walk  and  had  to  be  taken  to  the  Infirmary. 
The  Commander  of  the  Fusiliers,  overworked  and 
intoxicated  by  the  gas  from  the  explosions,  was  ill 
and  one  of  the  doctors  was  ill  too.  The  influence  of 
the  gases  became  more  and  more  distressing.  Some 
of  the  men  had  fainting  fits,  others  wept.  Certain  of 
them  were  depressed  and  seemed  to  be  awaiting  the 
shell  which  should  finish  them  off.  Neither  persua- 
sions nor  threats  from  the  Commander  of  the  Fort, 
aided  by  the  doctor  and  the  chaplain,  took  any  effect 
on  these  men,  who  were  awaiting  death  like  irresponsi- 
ble cattle. 

Towards  7.30  in  the  evening,  this  infernal  bom- 
bardment slackened  and  very  soon  it  ceased.  The 
Fort  had  received  60  of  the  terrible  420  shells.  The 
Commander  of  the  Lierre-Tallaert  interval  announced 
an  attack  by  the  enemy  Infantry  supported  by  field 
Artillery. 


192  Brave  Belgians 

The  men  pulled  themselves  together,  the  cupolas 
were  occupied,  and  the  firing  line  filled  with  machine- 
gunners  and  Fusiliers.  The  Tallaert  redoubt  could 
not  do  much  and  asked  for  help. 

We  fired  with  all  our  pieces  on  to  the  ground  in 
front  of  the  accessory  defences  of  the  interval.  The 
enemy  attack,  under  our  firing,  was  defeated  about 
9  o'clock.  All  the  garrison  had  taken  part  in  the 
fight,  even  our  invalids.  The  Commander  of  the 
Fusiliers  went  back  to  his  post  on  the  rampart. 

The  Fort  was  once  more  bombarded  and  at  ii 
o'clock,  a  fresh  attack  on  the  interval  began,  without 
any  better  result  for  the  enemy  than  the  first  one. 

October  2nd.  At  2  o'clock,  the  third  attack  on  the 
interval  began.  The  firing  line  on  the  front  of 
the  Fort  head  was  inundated  with  cartridges  from  the 
enemy  machine-guns.  Our  Fusiliers  repHed  with  fury. 
Their  Commander  had  the  hardest  work  to  regulate 
the  firing.  The  heated  guns  got  choked.  No  matter, 
our  men  were  determined  the  Germans  should  not 
pass.  Our  cannons  fired  at  full  speed.  The  noise 
was  deafening.  For  more  than  two  hours,  we  lived 
in  the  midst  of  this  hell  and  we  no  longer  heard  the 
enemy's  balls  which  came  in  swarms  whizzing  over 
our  heads.  One  of  the  cannons  was  disabled  by  the 
firing.  The  second  one  did  double  work,  but  before 
long  could  not  keep  its  place  in  the  battery  either. 

At  4.30,  we  knew  by  the  red  fuses,  that  the  enemy 
was  retreating.  The  interval  had  not  been  crossed 
and  not  a  single  wire  of  the  accessory  defences  had 
been  cut.  This  success  gave  our  men  fresh  hope  and 
confidence;  they  were  almost  joyful.  Their  fatigue 
was  very  evident  though.  As  soon  as  the  enemy 
attack   was   withdrawn,    the  firing   gallery   stopped 


The  Death-Struggle  of  Lierre  Fort  193 

replying  to  calls.  We  went  to  see  what  was  happening 
and  found  the  whole  staff  asleep.  The  officer  had 
thrown  himself  down  on  a  mattress,  and  on  getting 
up  he  staggered  with  fatigue.  There  had  been  a  few 
minutes'  respite  and  all  the  men,  not  having  to  keep 
on  the  alert,  had  succumbed  to  their  exhaustion. 

The  Commander  of  the  Fort  himself,  a  little  time 
before,  had  fallen  asleep  in  a  cupola  in  full  action. 

The  Commander  of  the  Fort  Artillery,  who  still 
could  not  walk,  was  evacuated,  together  with  another 
wounded  man.  Food  was  then  distributed  and  repairs 
done.  The  replenishing  of  the  cupolas  with  ammuni- 
tion was  effected,  thanks  to  the  covered  passages  that 
were  still  intact. 

At  7.20  the  bombardment  began  once  more.  Enemy 
aeroplanes  had  been  to  see  the  state  of  the  Fort,  and 
the  destruction  then  became  systematic.  Every  six 
minutes  a  420  projectile  arrived — "the  block  train," 
as  the  men  called  it.  We  watched  the  progress  of  the 
bombardment  with  great  anxiety. 

The  projectiles  could  be  heard  from  afar,  and  they 
struck  first  the  left  and  then  the  right  of  the  Fort. 
The  flank  salients  being  very  close  together,  the  blow 
struck  either  one  or  the  other  of  these  projections 
indifferently.  The  soldiers  remarked  this  and  made 
bets  as  soon  as  the  sound  of  the  projectiles  was  heard 
in  the  distance.  The  salient  I.  was  well  sprinkled 
first  and  then  the  firing  was  on  the  front.  The 
covered  passage  to  the  right  of  the  front  gave  way. 
It  was  by  this  that  the  ammunition  supply  for  the 
cupolas  was  effected.  How  many  men  were  under 
the  ruins?  A  roll-call  was  impossible.  "We  had  to 
evacuate  part  of  the  front,  and  half  of  the  staff  had 
to  take   refuge   in   the  semi-caponier   on  the  right. 


194  Brave  Belgians 

All  telephonic  and  telegraphic  communication  was  cut 
off.  The  Lierre  office  no  longer  replied,  as  the  town 
had  been  evacuated. 

The  firing  now  approached  the  right  semi-capo- 
nier, and  a  shell  burst  fifteen  yards  from  the  entrance. 

The  men  were  ordered  to  keep  at  the  other  side  of 
the  Fort,  which  was  no  longer  bombarded.  It  was 
impossible  to  warn  those  who  had  remained  at  the 
front  caponier.  The  explosions  continued  every  six 
minutes,  and  the  bombardment  was  carried  on  sys- 
tematically by  series,  and  in  an  invariable  manner. 
By  observing  where  the  projectiles  fell,  we  could 
calculate  just  the  moment  when  it  would  be  time  to 
move  away.  The  first  firing  of  a  series  was  danger- 
ous for  us.  As  soon  as  the  explosions  followed  each 
other  too  quickly,  the  men  collected  together,  as 
soon  as  they  heard  the  whizzing,  waited  for  the 
projectile  to  fall,  and  then  rushed  off  to  their  fresh 
shelter. 

This  game  could  not,  however,  continue  very  long. 
The  projectiles  seemed  to  be  following  us,  and  the 
arches  gave  way  one  after  another  after  we  had  left 
them. 

Towards  2  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  order  was 
given  to  the  Commander  of  the  Fusiliers  to  collect  his 
men  in  groups  and  to  send  them,  in  the  intervals 
between  the  firing,  to  the  postern  gate  of  the  Fort, 
which,  so  far,  was  intact.  The  order  was  carried 
out  and  we  were  able  to  pass,  in  the  most  miraculous 
way,  between  the  projectiles.  The  firing  now  con- 
tinued for  some  time  on  the  left  part  of  the  Fort 
and  the  men  grouped  themselves  on  the  berm  in  the 
space  which  separates  the  parapet  from  the  moat 
against  the  outside  talus  of  the  semi-front  of  the  right 


The  Death-Struggle  of  Lierre  Fort  195 

gorge.  Just  at  that  moment  the  two  hundred  and 
thirty-fifth  420  shell  fell  on  the  Fort. 

With  the  exception  of  the  danger  from  the  pieces 
of  masonry  and  from  the  explosions,  which  did  not 
injure  any  one  seriously,  we  were  fairly  safe.  Towards 
noon,  the  projectiles  came  more  frequently  and  the 
men  who  were  under  the  entrance  postern  and  in 
the  guard-room  were  called  inside.  All  the  defence 
works  were  by  this  time  either  destroyed  or  of  no  use. 
The  corridors  and  posterns  were  obstructed  by  huge 
blocks  of  masonry.  The  cupola  of  5  centimetres  7  of 
salient  IV.  was  the  only  one  which  appeared  to  be  in 
good  condition,  but  it  was  impossible  to  get  to  it. 
The  garrison's  last  shelter  was  now  threatened  in  its 
turn.  A  projectile  burst  on  the  edge  of  the  moat,  a 
few  yards  beyond  the  entrance  to  the  Fort,  and  this 
caused  a  moment's  panic.  The  bombardment  con- 
tinued, making  it  impossible  for  us  to  reoccupy  the 
building.  At  2.30,  a  formidable  detonation  and  a 
dense  smoke  made  us  presume  that  the  Koningshoyckt 
Fort  had  just  been  blown  up. 

We  saw  that  the  firing  of  our  field-batteries,  which 
were  in  position  at  the  back  of  us,  had  shortened  their 
aim,  in  order  to  cover  the  retreat  of  the  troops  in  the 
inters-als.  Their  shrapnels  burst  just  at  the  height 
where  we  were  stationed.  German  batteries  were 
now  placed  to  the  right  of  the  Fort,  so  that  we  were 
caught  between  two  fires. 

It  was  not  possible  for  us  to  re-enter  the  ruined 
Fort.  The  420  shells  continued  to  fall  on  it  every 
six  minutes  with  hopeless  regularity.  Our  reserve 
rations  and  cartridges  were  buried  under  the 
ruins.  There  was  no  more  drinking  water,  the  guns 
were   empty,   and    the   men    starving  with    hunger. 


196  Brave  Belgians 

There  was,  perhaps,  just  time  to  prevent  ourselves 
from  being  surrounded.  We  had  to  make  the  attempt 
under  a  deluge  of  shrapnels.  The  men  were  worn 
out,  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  intense  sadness  and 
discouragement  that,  at  6  o'clock,  the  officers  decided 
to  take  them  toward  Lierre.  The  defence  had 
lasted  four  interminable  days,  under  a  bombardment 
which  allowed  of  no  rest  and  which  prevented  our 
relieving  each  other.  Counting  beforehand  on  the 
demoralising  effects  of  their  terrible  engines  of  war- 
fare, the  Germans  had  imagined  that  on  the  night  of 
the  1st  to  the  2nd  of  October,  a  strong  attack  would 
make  them  masters  of  the  Fort. 

Their  three  attempts  at  assaiilt  were  so  many  failures 
for  them.  When,  twenty-four  hours  later,  they 
actually  entered  the  Fort,  it  was  merely  a  heap 
of  ruins  which  fell  into  their  hands. 

Fighting  is  nothing  if  only  one  can  retiu^n  the  blows 
one  receives.  The  range  of  the  enemy's  Artillery  was 
considerably  beyond  ours,  so  that  they  were  pro- 
tected from  our  firing.  We  were  obliged  to  wait, 
with  folded  arms,  until  Death  saw  fit  to  take  us. 

This  waiting,  in  a  dark  passage  of  masonry,  which 
one  knows  is  doomed  to  be  destroyed  and  which  every 
six  minutes  is  in  danger  of  being  dashed  to  pieces  by 
the  projectiles  that  one  hears  coming,  means  enduring 
the  agony  of  death  over  and  over  again. 

Such  an  experience  acts  on  the  best  tempered 
nerves,  and  the  heroism  of  those  who  awaited  death 
there,  simply  because  they  had  been  ordered  to  do  so, 
was  all  the  more  admirable  because  it  was  simple, 
unobtrusive  heroism,  about  which  the  world  has 
hitherto  never  known. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
Prisoner  in  the  Soltau  Camp 

From    the    Account    Given    by   Amand    Hasevoets,  First 
Sergeant  of  the  Regiment  of  Fortress  Grenadiers 

I  BELONGED  to  a  Company  of  the  Fortress  Grena- 
diers' Regiment.  We  occupied  the  interval  between 
the  Kessel  and  Broechem  Forts  when,  on  the  4th  of 
October,  1914,  the  bombardment  commenced.  The 
Germans  began  with  shrapnels  for  regulating  their 
firing,  and  then,  at  intervals  from  five  to  ten  minutes, 
they  sent  their  shells  on  to  Broechem.  According 
to  whether  the  projectile  fell  into  the  sand,  into  the 
moat,  or  on  to  the  cement,  a  yellow,  black,  or  white 
sheaf  rose  ten  yards  high  in  the  air. 

Towards  evening,  we  received  orders  to  protect  a 
column  of  soldiers  belonging  to  the  Engineers,  whose 
mission  was  to  destroy  the  bridges  over  the  Ncthe. 
Hidden  in  the  fields,  we  saw  figiu-es  gliding  along  by 
the  river.  In  the  darkness  of  the  night,  there  were 
five  immense  glows  and  five  detonations.  The  bridges 
had  been  blown  up  at  Broechem,  the  cannonading 
slackened,  and  flames  surrounded  the  Fort- 

We  fell  back  on  the  second  line  of  defence.  We 
passed  through  Wyneghem,  Burght,  and  Zwyndrecht, 
where  the  regiment  rejoined  us.     The  soldiers  who 

197 


198  Brave  Belgians 

had  marched  about  thirty-seven  miles,  and  for  weeks 
had  had  no  other  beds  than  the  trenches,  were  worn 
out.  They  had  scarcely  piled  arms  when  most  of 
them  were  stretched  out  on  the  pavement.  The 
inhabitants,  from  the  thresholds  of  their  houses,  looked 
at  the  Grenadiers  with  curiosity  mingled  with  fear. 
What  had  these  troops  come  to  do  here?  The  sight 
of  a  few  coins  reassured  them,  and  very  soon  a  care- 
fully prepared  little  meal  was  ready  in  every  house. 
The  following  day,  we  continued  our  retreat  by  the  St. 
Nicholas  road.  The  cannon  was  roaring  and  the 
ground  trembling  under  a  rain  of  shells,  which  inter- 
cepted our  march  and  obliged  us  to  await  the  end  of 
the  storm  lying  down  among  the  beet-root,  or  turnip 
plants. 

At  Beveren-Waes,  the  Colonel  called  the  officers 
together  and  talked  to  them  for  a  long  time.  They 
came  back  to  us  gloomy  and  discouraged. 

"We  are  surrounded,"  they  said,  "by  an  enemy 
of  overpoweringly  superior  numbers.  All  resistance 
would  be  useless.  Our  last  and  only  resource  is  to  get 
to  Holland." 

Desperate,  and  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  the  soldiers 
talked  in  low  voices  to  each  other,  giving  utterance 
to  their  opinions. 

"Fancy  being  shut  up  there  without  having  fought, 
without  having  seen  the  enemy!     How  humiliating!" 

The  regiment,  however,  was  soon  on  the  way  to- 
wards Clinge  and,  in  the  midst  of  a  heavy  fog,  made  a 
passage  along  the  road  which  was  encumbered  with 
carts  and  vehicles  of  every  kind,  in  the  midst  of  a 
distracted  population  in  flight.  The  soldiers  thought 
sadly  of  their  departure  from  Brussels  two  months 
ago,    of   the  enthusiasm,    the   pride  and   confidence 


Prisoner  in  the  Soltau  Camp       199 

which  they  had  felt,  as  they  set  out,  on  a  bright  sunny 
day,  singing  as  they  went  along  the  Wavre  road,  amid 
the  cheers  and  applause  of  the  crowd. 

On  approaching  the  frontier,  the  men  threw  down 
their  guns,  cartridge  cases,  and  bags.  For  several 
miles  the  ground  was  strewn  with  articles  of  equip- 
ment.    This  sight  roused  my  indignation. 

"No,"  I  exclaimed,  "whatever  happens,  lam  not 
going  to  Holland!"  I  picked  up  some  cartridges  and 
stuffed  all  my  pockets  with  them,  and  whilst  my 
comrades  crossed  the  frontier,  I  went  with  big  strides 
towards  the  Lokeren  road. 

I  have  no  idea  how  long  a  time  I  walked,  for  I  was 
like  a  madman.  At  every  instant,  patrols  appeared 
on  whom  I  fired.  Auto-machine-guns  passed  along 
at  full  speed  and,  hidden  in  a  ditch,  scarcely  daring 
to  breathe,  I  waited  until  these  terrible  engines  of 
warfare  had  disappeared.  By  incredible  luck,  escap- 
ing all  kinds  of  danger,  I  reached  the  suburbs  of 
Lokeren.  Peasants  were  working  peacefully  in  the 
fields.  I  approached  them  and  asked  whether  there 
were  any  Prussians  in  the  town. 

"  More  than  100,000,  "  was  the  reply. 

"Where  can  I  find  some  civilian's  clothes?"  I 
asked. 

"Over  yonder,  in  that  farm.  They  will  probably 
give  you  some." 

I  entered  the  farm  and,  after  a  little  discussion,  I 
obtained  some  clothes  for  fifteen  francs,  which  I  at 
once  put  on.  After  burying  my  gun  and  my  uniform, 
emboldened  by  my  disguise,  I  advanced  fearlessly 
along  the  Lokeren  road. 

"Who  goes  there?"  I  heard  someone  call  out.  • 

"An  inhabitant  of  Lokeren,"  I  answered. 


200  Brave  Belgians 

"Hands  up!" 

I  obeyed. 

"Advance!" 

I  obeyed  again.  I  had  happened  upon  a  Bavarian 
patrol  hidden  behind  the  trees  on  the  road.  I  was 
questioned  briefly  and  then  taken  to  join  a  hundred 
and  fifty  civiHans  in  hiding  along  the  hedge.  After 
waiting  for  an  hour,  as  the  mouse-trap  did  not  catch 
any  fresh  victim,  the  commanding  officer,  a  Lieu- 
tenant, addressed  us. 

"As  you  are  peaceable  citizens,  I  am  going  to  have 
you  taken  back  to  the  town." 

We  set  out  escorted  by  Bavarian  soldiers.  Near  the 
bridge  over  the  Durme,  a  Lieutenant,  stationed  in 
front  of  a  manufactory,  was  awaiting  us. 

"Come  in  here!"  he  said.  We  entered  and,  inside 
the  courtyard,  we  saw  piles  of  uniforms  belonging  to 
the  Belgian  Engineers.  We  were  ordered  to  put  them 
on.  I  went  to  the  officer  and  protested.  "I  am  not 
a  soldier  and  I  am  not  going  to  act  this  comedy, "  I 
said.  By  way  of  answering,  the  Lieutenant  seized 
my  hands.  With  a  pen-knife  he  took  some  of  the 
dirt  from  my  nails  and  smelt  it.  He  then  took  a  little 
bottle,  poured  some  liquid  over  this  dirt,  and  smelt 
it  again.     After  this,  he  gave  me  a  blow  with  his  fist. 

"Your  hands  are  not  the  hands  of  a  labourer,  but 
of  a  soldier,"  he  yelled.     "Obey,  or  you  will  be  shot." 

Under  the  surveillance  of  two  soldiers,  who  carefully 
inspected  my  under  linen,  I  put  on  the  uniform  and 
took  my  place  among  the  Belgian  soldiers  they 
had  thus  improvised.  Grouped  in  a  column,  we 
were  triumphantly  promenaded  through  the  Lokeren 
streets,  and  insults  and  jokes  were  lavished  on  us 
by  the  German  soldiery.     The  parade  ended,  after  a 


Prisoner  in  the  Soltau  Camp      2or 

mock  interrogation,  we  were  taken  to  a  place  without 
any  egress  and  obliged  to  bury  a  lot  of  dead  horses 
already  in  a  state  of  decomposition. 

Whilst  doing  this,  I  took  note  of  my  surroundings 
and  I  saw,  on  the  right,  the  entrance  to  a  dark  passage. 
Taking  advantage  of  a  moment  of  inattention,  I 
slipped  into  this.  It  was  an  ice-house.  It  was 
intensely  dark,  but  I  groped  along  and  crouched  down 
behind  some  blocks  of  ice,  where  I  spent  several 
hours  shivering  with  cold.  I  could  hear  the  expres- 
sions of  disgust  uttered  by  my  companions  during 
their  repulsive  task. 

When  this  was  accomplished,  a  sub-officer  took  it 
into  his  head  to  count  the  men. 

"There  is  one  missing,  "  he  remarked. 

One  of  us,  a  wretched  spy,  denounced  me. 

"He  is  in  the  ice-house, "  he  said. 

The  Germans  entered,  discovered  me,  and  literally 
kicked  me  out.  No  one  can  imagine  my  state  of  fury 
and  rage.  If  only  any  of  these  wretches  ever  fall  into 
my  hands,  they  will  have  no  time  to  feel  bored,  for  I 
am  reserving  for  them  a  little  fete  of  my  own  invention. 
On  Tuesday,  eight  hundred  English  soldiers  and 
three  hundred  Belgian  soldiers  were  added  to  otir 
number.  They  were  real  soldiers  this  time.  As  some 
of  the  Belgian  ones  were  in  civilian  dress,  I  made  an 
arrangement  with  one  of  them  to  change  my  uniform 
for  his  clothes.  It  would  be  more  easy  in  this  way  to 
play  my  part  as  a  citizen. 

The  following  day,  escorted  by  Bavarians,  we  set 
out  on  foot  and  were  taken  to  Termonde,  a  march  of 
about  twelve  milesi  The  walk  was  very  painful,  as 
our  only  food  was  the  turnips  that  the  soldiers  gathered 
in  the  fields  and  threw  to  us. 


202  Brave  Belgians 

Termonde  was  frightful  to  behold.  In  the  midst  of 
the  houses  which  had  been  burned. down  were  drunken 
sailors,  holding  bottles  of  wine  under  their  arms, 
while  they  pillaged,  saccaged,  and  turned  out  every- 
thing. In  one  of  the  streets,  the  Burgomaster  of 
Waesmunster  stopped  us  and,  thanks  to  his  protesta- 
tions, obtained  the  liberation  of  the  inhabitants  of  his 
commune.  I  saw  an  officer  dressed  as  a  Belgian  and 
asked  him  to  intervene  in  my  favour,  pleading  that 
I  was  a  civilian.  The  Belgian  officer  immediately 
spoke  to  the  Commander  of  the  convoy,  who  replied 
in  excellent  French: 

"We  have  received  orders  to  arrest  the  civilians 
in  the  districts  where  our  troops  have  been  fired  on. 
If  I  gave  this  man  his  liberty,  he  would  be  arrested 
again  before  he  had  gone  five  hundred  yards.  Come 
and  speak  to  me  at  Schaerbeck  and  I  will  see."  At 
7  o'clock  in  the  evening,  we  were  taken  to  the  station, 
counted,  given  a  plate  of  soup,  and  then  huddled  into 
cattle  trucks,  upon  which  was  a  thick  layer  of  manure. 
In  each  truck  were  thirty-six  Belgians  and  four 
Bavarian  soldiers.  We  then  started  in  a  broken- 
winded  train !  It  advanced  slowly,  puffing,  whistling, 
and  stopping  every  minute.  Very  soon  our  keepers 
began  to  talk  to  us.  They  showed  us  their  blue  and 
white  cockades  proudly. 

"Queen  Elisabeth  is  Bavarian,  too,"  they  said. 
"She  is  a  noble  woman  and  will  be  an  example  for 
the    Belgians.     We    admire    her    and    respect    her." 

In  other  ways,  too,  they  expressed  their  sj^mpathy 
with  the  Belgian  nation.  Taking  advantage  of  all 
this  I  asked  one  of  them  to  open  the  door,  so  that  we 
could  have  a  last  look  at  our  country.  He  consented 
and,  whilst  my  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  pasture  ground 


Prisoner  in  the  Soltau  Camp      203 

full  of  cattle,  the  golden  harvest  fields,  with  red-roofed 
farms  here  and  there,  looking  so  gay  and  cheerful 
under  the  setting  sun,  I,  crouching  down  on  the 
manure,  in  the  warm,  infected  atmosphere,  with 
insects  worrying  us,  made  a  fresh  plan  of  escape. 

Presently  all  was  silent  and  the  Bavarians  were 
dozing.  Outside  there  were  no  troops  in  sight. 
Sentinels  posted  from  one  half-mile  to  another  kept 
watch  over  the  railway  line.  We  were  within  sight 
of  Zellick  and  there  was  the  race-course.  It  seemed 
to  be  a  propitious  moment.  I  opened  the  door  cau- 
tiously and  prepared  to  jump  out.  Just  then  a  voice 
called  out:  "What  fool  has  opened  the  door,  letting 
in  the  cold?" 

The  four  Bavarians  sprang  to  their  feet,  cursing 
and  swearing.  They  distributed  a  few  blows  among 
us  with  the  butt  ends  of  their  guns.  Our  train  passed 
through  Brussels,  creeping  along  like  a  tortoise  and, 
at  five  in  the  afternoon,  reached  Lidge. 

Our  arrival  was  announced,  and  the  population, 
massed  around  the  station  and  in  the  neighbouring 
streets,  cheered  us  and  threw  us  bread,  chocolate, 
tobacco,  and  other  things  and  called  out,  "  Is  Antwerp 
taken? "  On  oin-  reply  in  the  affirmative,  they  groaned : 
"Oh,  God,  what  a  misfortune!" 

It  can  readily  be  imagined  how  thankful  we  were  for 
the  food  thrown  to  us.  Since  the  day  before,  we  had 
had  nothing  to  eat  or  to  drink.  Our  hunger  touched 
the  Bavarians  who  allowed  us  to  get  down  on  the  line 
and  pick  up  the  gifts  strewn  all  about.  For  the  men 
of  our  truck,  we  had  a  loaf  weighing  about  two  pounds, 
a  tablet  of  chocolate,  and  four  bottles  of  wine.  All 
this  divided  by  thirty-six  did  not  allow  of  big  portions, 
but  the  sight  of  the  courageous  Li^geois  city  and  the 


204  Brave  Belgians 

cordial  welcome  of  its  inhabitants  had  comforted 
us.  After  the  meal,  when  two  cigarettes  each  were 
allotted  to  us,  we  felt  as  though  we  had  just  had  a 
king's  feast.  A  little  emboldened,  I  went  up  to  a 
German  oflacer  who  had  a  kindly  look  and  introduced 
myself  to  him  as  an  inoffensive  pastry  cook  of  Brussels, 
who  had  gone  to  Flanders  to  buy  butter  more  cheaply, 
and  was  a  victim  of  a  frightful  mistake.  I  was  elo- 
quent and  persuasive  in  my  arguments.  "You  are 
free,"  the  officer  said  at  last;  "ask  for  a  ticket  for 
Brussels." 

Intoxicated  with  joy,  I  rushed  to  the  office  of  the 
military  superintendent  of  the  station.  He  was  a  big 
fellow,  with  a  head  like  a  bull-dog's.  He  did  not 
trouble  to  listen,  but  gave  me  a  blow  with  his  fist  on 
my  head,  another  on  the  back  of  my  neck,  and  has- 
tened my  departure  from  his  office  by  a  formidable 
kick. 

On  leaving  Li^ge,  we  had  to  travel  in  absolute 
darkness.  At  Herbesthal,  a  dummy  hanging  from  a 
stake,  and  dressed  up  in  the  full  military  dress  of  a 
Belgian  artilleryman,  caused  laughter,  in  which  our 
Bavarian  keepers  joined.  Without  stopping,  we 
continued  our  way  as  far  as  Dusselheite.  In  a  shed 
near  the  station,  we  were  allowed  to  wash.  It  is 
impossible  to  give  an  idea  of  our  filth.  Our  faces 
were  smudged  with  dirt  and  filth  of  all  kinds,  our  hair 
was  tangled  and  full  of  straw,  our  clothes  were  dirty. 
Each  one  of  us,  looking  at  his  neighbour,  said  to  him- 
self: "What  a  dirty  creature!"  Thanks  to  some 
soap  and  water,  after  brushing  and  scraping  ourselves, 
we  once  more  looked  like  human  beings.  We  drank 
a  bowl  of  soup,  devoured  three  sausages,  and  set  off 
once  more  on  our  way.     We  passed  by  stations,  went 


Prisoner  in  the  Soltau  Camp      205 

over  bridges,  level  crossings,  and  under  tunnels.  Fre- 
quently we  met  trains  filled  with  German  soldiers, 
who  shook  their  fists  and  shouted  their  insults. 

We  did  not  reply,  but  our  eyes  spoke  for  us  and  our 
hatred  could  be  read  in  them.  Our  apparently  inter- 
minable journey  came  to  an  end  finally  and,  on 
October  i6th,  at  ii  o'clock  at  night,  after  sixty-four 
hours  of  travelling,  we  arrived  at  Soltau.  At  the 
station,  we  were  divided  into  two  groups,  soldiers 
and  civilians,  and  were  sent  to  the  riding-school. 
We  had  to  pass  through  a  crowd  more  curious  than 
hostile.  When  we  reached  the  building,  a  sub-officer, 
with  the  word  "Gibraltar"  on  his  uniform,  told 
us  to  go  in.  We  entered  and  found  it  full.  Without 
being  disturbed  in  the  least,  "Gibraltar"  struck  out 
right  and  left,  yelling:  "Here,  there's  room  enough 
here  for  a  pig."  We  lay  down  on  the  ground  and 
slept  like  brutes. 

The  next  day,  I  discovered  that  the  circus  contained 
1400  civilian  prisoners,  of  ages  varying  from  eight  to 
eighty-four.  Among  them  were  the  Catholic  priests 
of  Lebbeke  and  of  Sommeleuze,  the  chaplain  of  the 

Termonde  Orphanage,  the  notary  of ,  Abbd  Bilaers, 

etc.  All  the  ecclesiastics  had  been  compelled  to  dress 
as  laymen,  as  the  sight  of  the  cassock  excited  the 
soldiers'  anger.  They  drove  the  priests  along  with 
their  bayonets,  shouting:  "Dogs,  pigs,  you  pray  in 
church  and  you  shoot  in  the  street!"  With  the 
exception  of  "Gibraltar,"  the  soldiers  on  guard  did 
not  ill-treat  us.  They  shouted,  swore,  and  threatened, 
but  they  rarely  struck  any  of  us.  Very  strict  rules 
were  imposed  on  us  and  any  infraction  was  punished 
by  prison  or  by  the  stake.  This  latter  punishment 
consisted  of  fastening  the  guilty  man  to  one  of  the 


2o6  Brave  Belgians 

upright  pillars  of  the  circus.  He  had  to  stand  there 
for  twelve  hours,  and  this  was  excessively  painful. 
As  for  our  food,  we  had  coffee  in  the  morning,  soup 
at  noon,  and  in  the  evening,  and  every  third  day  a 
loaf  of  bread  of  1500  grammes.  This  alimentation 
was  wholesome,  but  insufHcient.  As  I  had  a  little 
money,  I  was  able  to  get  some  extra  food,  but  those 
of  my  companions  who  had  used  up  their  money  were 
reduced  to  devouring  the  scraps  that  their  keepers 
left  them.  It  was  a  heartrending  sight  to  see  rich, 
educated  men,  who  held  high  posts  in  our  country, 
seizing  the  tins  containing  the  leavings  of  the  German 
soldiers  and  eating  these  scraps  gladly. 

Our  number  decreased,  as  the  children  under 
fourteen  were  sent  back  to  Brussels  and  the  ecclesias- 
tics to  Selb.  Finally,  on  the  26th  of  October,  all  the 
remaining  prisoners  were  sent  to  the  camp  at  Soltau. 

Situated  in  the  midst  of  the  Lunebourg  fir-tree  woods, 
this  camp  looked  very  cheerful.  The  installations 
occupied  a  vast  space  and  consisted  of  96  wooden 
sheds,  150  yards  long,  and  12  wide,  covered  with 
bittuninated  pasteboard  and  provided  with  electricity 
and  central  heating.  Each  shed,  beside  the  work- 
rooms and  baths,  had  six  dormitories,  all  built  alike. 
On  the  floor,  which  was  raised  saddle-back  fashion, 
were  straw  sacks  filled  with  vegetal  fibre,  which 
generally  harbours  vermin  in  quantities.  Against 
the  outer  wall  were  shelves,  upon  which  each  man 
could  keep  his  clothes  and  toilette  affairs.  The 
discipline  was  strict,  the  food  wholesome  and  scanty, 
and  work  obligatory.  Seated  on  benches,  we  spent 
our  days  plaiting  straw  bags.  Our  fingers  were  numb 
with  cold,  as  the  central  heating  apparatus  was  never 
used.     My  hands  were  stiff  and  rigid  with  rheumatism, 


Prisoner  in  the  Soltau  Camp      207 

and  very  soon  I  could  do  no  more  work.  I  sat  there 
for  long,  weary  hours  idle,  gazing  out  blankly,  thinking 
of  my  wife  and  children,  and  of  my  country,  that  I 
should  probably  never  see  again. 

On  the  loth  of  January,  the  Flemish  were  separated 
from  the  Walloons,  and  on  the  25th  of  the  same  month 
we  were  told,  to  our  delight,  that  the  Flemish  were 
to  be  sent  back  to  their  country.  Our  joy  can  be 
imagined.  We  began  shouting  and  dancing  and 
then,  suddenly  ashamed  of  ourselves,  we  were  silent. 
Our  unfortunate  Walloon  companions  were  weeping 
bitter  tears.  We  endeavoured  to  encourage  them, 
we  assured  them  that  they  would  soon  be  freed  and, 
in  their  presence,  we  hid  our  joy  as  much  as  possible. 
Whatever  may  have  been  our  social  differences,  and 
our  differences  of  opinion,  the  suffering  we  had  en- 
dured together  had  created  a  strong  bond  of  friend- 
ship between  us,  and  it  was  with  a  pang  at  our  hearts 
that  we  left  them  when  the  time  came  to  start. 

We  were  2800  in  number  and  we  left  on  the  28th, 
at  ten  in  the  morning.  We  reached  Schaerbeek  on  the 
29th,  at  nine  in  the  evening,  and  were  set  free  on  the 
30th  of  January,  at  eleven  in  the  morning. 

I  rushed  off  immediately,  in  the  direction  of  my 
home.  Joyful,  and  with  a  light  heart,  I  hurried  along 
the  familiar  streets.  As  I  arrived  nearer  and  nearer, 
my  eyes  became  dim  and  my  legs  felt  as  though  they 
would  give  way.  When  once  I  saw  the  house,  with  its 
shop  window  full  of  tempting  cakes,  just  as  when  I 
had  left  it,  my  heart  seemed  to  give  a  bound  within 
my  breast  and  I  suddenly  felt  weak  and  had  to  lean 
against  the  wall.  What  joy  it  was  to  see  my  dear 
wife  and  children  once  more. 

Alas,  the  joy  was  not  of  long  duration.     I  could 


2o8  Brave  Belgians 

not  forget  that  our  country  was  in  danger,  and  I  cotild 
not  desert  the  brave  comrades  who  were  doing  glorious 
deeds  on  the  banks  of  the  Yser. 

In  spite  of  the  entreaties  of  my  wife  and  the  tears  of 
my  children,  I  made  my  way,  a  few  days  later,  to  the 
frontier  and  rejoined  the  army. 


CHAPTER  XXni 
The  Last  Fragments  of  Antwerp 

By  Artillery  Captain  M C 

The  Retreat 


We  were  approaching  the  frontier 

Behind  those  trees,  five  hundred  yards  away,  was 
Holland,  the  boundary  of  our  country.  To  cross  that 
frontier  meant  the  end  for  the  time  being  of  our  resist- 
ance. .  .  .  What  would  be  done  with  us  there?  Would 
they — ?  Ah  no,  at  that  idea,  my  whole  soul  revolted 
and  strengthened  me  against  the  force  of  things. 
Cross  that  frontier?  Never!  And  once  more  the 
idea  which  had  come  into  my  mind,  and  taken  posses- 
sion of  me  ever  since  leaving  Antwerp,  became  imperi- 
ous: "Join  the  King  once  more  or — die."  Good, 
this  time  I  felt  ready  to  risk  everything. 

Confusion  reigned  supreme.  Everything  seemed 
to  be  mixed  up  in  inextricable  disorder.  In  the 
narrow  streets  of  this  frontier  village,  men  of  all 
kinds  of  arms,  belonging  to  every  different  unit,  were 
gathered  together  pele-mele.  The  retreat  had  brought 
them  all  here  together  to  this  spot.  Soldiers  were 
looking  for  their  chiefs,  officers  were  looking  for  their 
troops  and,  whilst  trying  to  bring  some  kind  of  order 

14  209 


210  Brave  Belgians 

into  the  chaos,  they  were  hindered  by  carts  and  vehicles 
of  all  sorts,  the  drivers  of  which  were  endeavouring  to 
make  a  way  for  themselves  through  the  seething 
crowds.  I  had  never  felt,  until  this  moment,  all  the 
horror  of  the  defeat  and  the  strange  impotence  of  the 
army  that  has  experienced  it. 

These  lamentable  fragments  were  all  that  remained 
of  the  Antwerp  garrison.  Assailed  on  all  sides  in 
the  last  redoubt  of  the  fortified  place,  they  had  held 
out  against  the  victorious  enemy  to  the  very  end. 
The  cannons,  dragged  along  for  miles  by  the  men 
themselves,  had  been  turned  round  and  pointed 
backwards,  on  the  city  from  which  the  Germans  were 
already  coming.  Then  the  retreat  had  taken  place, 
the  interminable,  exhausting  retreat,  when,  in  order 
to  avoid  being  surrounded,  we  had  marched,  without 
halt,  in  the  dust  and  heat  of  the  sun,  half  dead  with 
hunger  and  parched  with  thirst,  the  enemy  harassing 
our  flanks  and  threatening  to  cut  us  off  all  the  time. 

At  present,  we  were  here,  at  the  frontier,  and 
were  in  the  position  of  an  army  in  a  blind  alley. 
The  darkness  came  on  and  we  were  surrounded  by 
the  enemy.  We  had  been  without  food  for  two  or 
three  days.  The  men  were  dazed  and  bewildered  by 
the  commotion  and  could  no  longer  hear  the  orders 
they  received.  One  of  them  came  wandering  towards 
me  and  I  told  him  where  he  would  find  his  Company. 
He  looked  at  me  in  a  dazed  way.  I  seized  him  by  the 
shoulders  and  pushed  him  in  the  direction  of  his 
troop.  Under  the  impulse  of  the  strength  acquired 
by  my  push,  he  walked  a  few  steps  and  then  rolled 
into  a  ditch,  and  remained  there  stretched  out  as 
though  lifeless. 

Vague    rumours    were    circulating,     discouraging, 


The  Last  Fragments  of  Antwerp  211 

gloomy  news.  Some  of  our  troops  had  gone  over  into 
Holland  and  we  were  going  to  follow  them,  as  our 
retreat  was  cut  off  and  the  enemy  quite  near.  .  .  . 
In  the  midst  of  the  darkness,  firing  rent  the  air.  I 
prepared  immediately  for  parrying  an  attack,  as  I 
found  myself  in  the  rear-guard. 

Suddenly,  I  heard  a  dull,  prolonged  sound  in  the 
village.  I  sent  a  messenger  and  went  myself  to  the 
out-posts.  Quartermaster  Snysters,  a  volunteer, 
though  quite  an  elderly  man,  addressed  me:  "Lieu- 
tenant," he  said,  with  an  anxious  look  on  his  face, 
"is  it  true  that  we  are  going  over  into  Holland?" 

"My  dear  fellow,  we  shall  not  go  over  into  Holland 
unless  we  want  to,  "  I  answered.  "Arc  we  both  of  the 
same  mind?" 

"Ah,  good!     As  for  me,  you  know " 

He  finished  with  an  energetic  gesture  which  re- 
quired no  words. 

"Where  are  the  others?"  I  asked. 

The  others  were  a  few  brave  sub-officers,  who, 
with  my  friend  Snysters,  had  promised  to  follow 
me  whatever  happened,  through  everything,  through 
the  enemy,  through  death  itself,  if  necessary.  They 
were  all  there,  awaiting  me. 

"My  friends,"  I  said,  "things  seem  to  be  in  a  bad 
way.  The  moment  has  come  to  prove  your  mettle. 
Are  you  all  of  the  same  mind  still? " 

"Lieutenant,"  said  big  Van  Bastelaer,  "we  are 
ready  for  everything — except  to  be  prisoners." 

"Good,"  I  answered. 

My  messenger  had  not  come  back  though.  The 
sound  I  had  heard  in  the  village  seemed  farther  off 
and  everything  appeared  to  be  calm.  I  went  to  see 
for  myself  and  found  perfect  silence  in  the  dark  street. 


212  Brave  Belgians 

There  was  not  a  man  to  be  seen.  What  was  happen- 
ing? Presently,  in  the  deserted  Square  of  the  little 
village,  I  saw  a  little  group  of  soldiers  appear  and,  at 
the  head  of  it,  I  recognised  Major  S . 

"Is  that  you    M ?"    he  called  out,  and  then, 

in  a  lower  tone,  he  added,  "They  have  crossed  the 
frontier,  we  are  alone.  .  .  .  Have  you  any  men?" 

"Yes,  Major,  I  am  holding  the  outposts." 

"Bring  your  men  to  the  Square  at  once." 

"My  friends,"  said  the  Major,  speaking  very 
gravely,  when  we  were  all  assembled  there,  "we  are 
surrounded  by  big  forces.  There  is  nothing  left  but 
to  cross  the  frontier  and  go  into  Holland.  Those 
who  do  not  wish  to  go  with  me  are  free." 

"Good,  Major,"  I  answered,  approaching  him. 
"I  will  go  with  you  to  the  frontier,  but  not  beyond  it." 

The  Major  looked  angr}',  but  he  restrained  himself. 

"What  do  you  propose  doing?"  he  asked. 

"I  intend  getting  through  the  German  lines  or 
dying  in  the  attempt." 

"But  it  is  pure  madness." 

"I  do  not  care  to  give  up  my  sword.  Major,  as 
long  as  I  can  use  it." 

He  reflected  for  a  minute  and  then  held  out  his 
hand.     "Good,"  he  said,  "you  are  free.     Adieu!" 

Four  men  then  left  the  ranks.  They  were  my 
four  friends,  who  all  preferred  a  glorious  death  to 
servitude. 

'"Attention!  Right  flank!  Right!  Forward- 
March!" 

Silently  and  with  dragging  footsteps,  the  troop 
set  out  and  was  soon  at  some  distance.  It  then 
disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

The  thing  was  done  and  we  were  alone,  separated 


The  Last  Fragments  of  Antwerp  213 

from  our  army  by  streams  of  enemies,  against  whom 
we  had  to  fling  ourselves,  and  either  pass  or  die  in  the 
attempt.  Courage!  The  moment  had  come  for 
us  to  prove  our  filial  love  for  our  beloved  country! 
We  were  not  conquered,  we  four,  and  in  spite  of  the 
disaster  hovering  over  us,  in  spite  of  Death,  which  we 
expected  awaited  us  over  yonder,  we  felt  our  hearts 
full  of  joy,  hope,  and  pride.  .  .  . 

In  the  German  Lines 

Before  setting  out,  we  held  council  together  for  a 
few  minutes.  The  German  lines  now  reached  from 
St.  Nicolas  to  the  frontier.  In  a  movement  as  rapid 
as  theirs  had  been,  it  was  very  probable  that  they  had 
left  gaps  between  these  two  points,  and  we  had  to 
try  to  pass  through  these  gaps.  I  took  the  direction 
and  we  set  out.  I  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  and 
committed  my  soul  and  the  souls  of  my  companions 
to  the  God  of  Justice.  We  each  had  a  good  gun,  a 
bayonet,  and  our  pockets  full  of  cartridges.  We  set 
off  across  the  fields  in  the  darkness. 

After  walking  about  fifty  yards,  I  was  compelled  to 
come  to  a  standstill.  The  nervous  tension  which  had 
kept  me  up  whilst  with  the  troop  had  suddenly  given 
way  and,  suddenly,  the  fatigue  of  the  preceding  days 
seemed  to  come  upon  me  and  stiffen  all  my  limbs.  I 
felt  giddy  and  the  whole  country  seemed  to  be  turning 
round  and  round.  I  fell  to  the  ground,  and  my  whole 
body  seemed  to  be  seized  with  an  immense  weariness. 
I  dare  not  give  way  to  it,  as  it  was  necessary  to  move 
on. 

"Forward!"  I  said  to  myself,  "for  the  King's 
sake!" 


214  Brave  Belgians 

Presently  we  came  to  a  cross-roads  and  it  seemed 
to  us  as  though  something  had  moved  behind  the 
hedge.  One  of  us  crawled  towards  the  spot  and  made 
a  sign  to  the  others  that  it  was  nothing.  The  wind 
had  probably  stirred  one  of  the  branches.  We 
walked  on  and  on,  straight  in  front  of  us,  across  the 
immense  polder,  jumping  over  ditches  full  of  water, 
and  stumbling  over  the  turnips  in  the  field,  for  we 
passed  through  one  after  another  of  these  turnip 
fields.  I  tore  up  a  beet-root  and  ate  it  greedily  as  I 
walked  along. 

In  the  distance,  we  saw  a  group  of  houses  standing 
out  vaguely  against  the  horizon.  This  was  probably 
the  dyke  which  forms  a  passage  over  the  water.  If 
this  dyke  should  be  guarded,  which  was  very  pro- 
bable, we  should  have  to  look  to  ourselves.  As  we 
approached,  we  saw  that  the  houses  were  lighted  up. 
Peasants  would  not  have  lights  at  that  hour.  I 
crept  along  stealthily  to  one  of  the  windows  and 
gazed  eagerly  through  a  crack  in  the  shutters.  There 
was  a  room  full  of  Boches  in  grey  coats,  some  of  them 
snoring  and  the  others  talking. 

We  slipped  round  towards  the  entrance  to  the  dyke. 
At  the  bend  was  a  sentinel,  motionless.  I  rubbed 
my  chin  and  thought  things  over.  If  we  went  along 
by  the  water,  keeping  at  the  bottom  of  the  embank- 
ment, there  must  surely  be  a  way  of  crossing,  if  there 
were  not  a  second  sentinel.  Holding  our  breath  and 
watching  ever}^  shrub,  we  crept  slowly  along.  We 
came  to  the  end  of  the  dyke  and  had  met  no  one. 

This  then  was  the  first  obstacle  cleared  without 
any  difficulty.  Otir  prayer  was  that  Heaven  would 
protect  the  slumber  of  the  Boches! 

We  were  now  once  more  in  the  endless  desert, 


The  Last  Fragments  of  Antwerp  215 

stumbling  along  in  the  furrows,  eating  turnips, 
crossing  fields,  our  gaze  searching  for  landmarks, 
which  always  seemed  to  dfaw  farther  away  as  we 
approached.  Our  minds  were  occupied  with  a  vision 
of  our  army,  that  army  which  needed  our  arms  and 
which  had  conquered  our  hearts. 

Soon  we  came  to  a  little  hamlet.  There  were  no 
lights  and,  if  the  Germans  were  not  there,  we  thought 
we  might  be  able  to  take  shelter  during  the  day. 
We  approached  a  courtyard  and  there  we  saw  some 
weapons.  In  the  sheds,  we  heard  sonorous  snores. 
We  went  on  very  quietly,  but  we  were  glad  to  see  how 
badly  the  Prussians  kept  guard.  If  only  they  had 
known  that  five  well-armed  Belgians  were  having 
a  look  round  their  quarters! 

We  continued  our  way  and  had  now  to  go  through 
meadows  with  hedges  and  barriers  of  barbed  wire. 
Here  and  there  were  solitary  houses.  We  came  to 
one  with  a  light  in  the  window.  We  went  some  dis- 
tance round  in  order  to  avoid  it.  Suddenly,  big 
Jeanjean,  who  was  ahead  of  us,  called  out: 

"This  way,  Lieutenant,  there  is  a  good  path 
here." 

He  had  scarcely  finished  speaking  when  I  heard  a 
tremendous  splash  and  the  sound  of  a  body  struggling 
in  the  water.  The  unfortunate  man  had  taken  one 
of  those  moss-covered  canals,  which  intersect  the 
district,  for  a  dry  path,  and  had  hurried  forward 
with  an  eagerness  worthy  of  a  better  reward.  A 
shot  was  heard  almost  immediately.  Jeanjean  freed 
himself  and  came  out  of  his  bath,  but  bullets  whizzed 
by  our  ears,  as  we  had  been  discovered. 

We  crawled  along  by  the  wretched  ditch,  and  we 
jumped  over  another  one,  and  then  hurried  along 


2i6  Brave  Belgians 

under  the  hedges  Hke  hunted  foxes,  but  we  were 
followed  all  the  time  by  bullets. 

In  front  of  us,  at  the  end  of  a  field,  I  saw  a  row  of 
houses,  but  we  had  to  be  cautious,  for  the  building  on 
the  right  was  the  house  with  a  light  that  we  had  been 
avoiding.  To  the  left  were  more  houses,  and  above 
them  emerged  a  church  steeple.  It  was  a  village, 
then,  and  we  knew  it  must  be  St.-Gilles-Waes,  which 
was  full  of  Germans.  I  noticed  a  huge  patch  of  big 
cabbages.  We  crept  quickly  to  them  and  then, 
crouching  down  amongst  the  leaves,  with  our  fingers 
on  the  triggers  of  our  guns,  we  awaited  events. 

The  firing  gradually  ceased,  as  the  Boches  had 
evidently  lost  track  of  us.  It  was  necessary  for  us 
to  get  away  from  there,  though,  before  daybreak 
and  it  was  high  time  to  start. 

We  came  quietly  out  of  our  hiding-place,  fifty  yards 
from  a  sentinel,  whose  back  was  turned  towards  us. 
We  had  to  keep  quite  close  to  the  walls  of  farms  which 
were  swarming  with  the  enemy.  On  passing  in 
front  of  the  house  with  the  light,  I  saw  a  figure  lean 
out  of  the  window,  and  then  the  light  was  extinguished. 
The  village  behind  us  became  animated  and  the 
pursuit  commenced. 

A  hundred  yards  in  front  of  us,  a  group  of  men  sud- 
denly appeared  at  the  turn  of  the  road.  It  was  a 
patrol.  We  crept  down  an  embankment  and  then 
slipped,  one  after  the  other,  into  a  little  ditch  which 
was  covered  by  the  branches  of  filbert  trees.  The 
patrol  passed  by  and  disappeared. 

The  hour  was  advancing  though,  and  day  began  to 
break.  Our  poor  Jeanjean  was  shivering  all  over. 
We  could  not  possibly  think  of  spending  the  whole 
day  like  this.     I   saw  a  house,   which  looked  very 


The  Last  Fragments  of  Antwerp  217 

peaceful,  outside  the  village.  Perhaps  it  was  empty. 
We  decided  to  go  and  find  out.  Under  the  shelter  of 
ditches  and  hedges,  we  arrived  at  the  back  of  the  house. 
In  the  courtyard  there  were  guns  and  bags  lying 
about.  This  was  ominous,  but  our  enterprising  Van 
Bastelaer  had  already  crossed  the  fence  and  was 
quite  near  to  it. 

"Lieutenant,"  he  said,  "they  are  Belgian  haver- 
sacks." 

We  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  all  five  of  us 
entered  the  courtyard.  Some  of  us  searched  the  bags, 
whilst  the  others  began  to  explore  the  house.  I  went 
to  have  a  lookout  from  the  little  lane  that  led  into  the 
road.  At  the  other  end  of  it,  ten  yards  away  from 
me,  I  saw  a  motor-car  and  by  it  ...  a  German 
officer ! 

Just  as  I  was  looking  at  him,  he  turned  round  facing 
me,  and  our  eyes  met.  I  went  back  to  my  men,  but 
the  Boche  followed  me.  We  were  only  three  steps 
away  from  each  other,  looking  into  each  other's  eyes. 
With  a  quick  gesture,  he  drew  out  his  pistol  and  took 
aim.  I  unsheathed  my  sword  and  held  its  point 
under  his  nose.  I  shall  never  forget  what  I  then 
saw.  The  Prussian  officer  turned  deadly  pale.  Like 
a  flash  of  lightning,  I  saw  a  look  of  unutterable  terror 
pass  over  his  face  and  then  suddenly,  before  I  had 
time  to  strike,  this  man,  who  had  held  my  life  in  his 
hands,  turned  on  his  heels  and  disappeared  in  the  lane. 

But  at  the  same  moment  there  was  a  general  stir 
in  the  barns  near  by.  Heads  looked  out  from  every- 
where. This  time,  it  was  going  to  be  a  tough  business. 
Without  waiting  for  our  change,  we  all  sprang  over  the 
palisadings.  The  first  one  caught  his  foot  and  fell, 
the  next  one  fell  on  him,  and  all  five  of  us  rolled  one 


2i8  Brave  Belgians 

over  the  other  into  the  ditch,  laughing  in  a  way  that 
must  have  made  all  the  Boches  in  the  farm  wild  with 
fury. 

Facing  us  was  an  immense,  open  space,  as  flat  as  a 
glacis.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  cross  this. 
We  started  at  full  speed,  but  it  was  over  ploughed 
land. 

"I  fancy  this  stroke  of  business  will  be  the  end  of 
us!"  said  Snysters,  gasping  for  breath. 

"Yes,  "  replied  Jeanjean,  who  was  breathing  like  a 
seal. 

"  It'll  be  good  for  your  cold ! "  shouted  little  Gilissen, 
who  was  acting  as  our  rear-guard.  And  all  five  of 
us,  keeping  up  our  speed,  laughed  heartily. 

Presently  we  came  to  a  road.  Jeanjean  rushed  a 
little  way  towards  us,  then  stopped  short  and  mut- 
tered: "Attention,  Lieutenant!"  I  looked  and  saw 
a  German  sentinel,  leaning  on  his  weapon,  stationed 
at  a  little  building  some  five  yards  away  from  us. 
There  was  no  time  to  manoeuvre ;  I  turned  to  my  men 
and,  whilst  running,  shouted  out  to  them  "Es  geht 
wohl!     Kommen  Sie  hierdurch!" 

We  crossed  the  road  under  his  very  nose  and  rushed 
into  a  little  wood  which  skirted  the  opposite  side. 
The  sentinel  did  not  move,  deceived  probably,  thanks 
to  the  dim  light,  to  my  words,  and  to  the  audacity  of 
our  manoeuvre. 

To  our  joy,  at  the  other  end  of  the  wood,  we  saw  a 
dark  line  stretching  out  towards  us.  It  was  the 
labyrinth  of  fir-trees,  of  tall  broom  and  brushwood, 
which  skirts  the  northern  part  of  the  country.  We 
crossed  a  glade,  and  then  a  clearing  and  a  railroad. 
The  enemy  post  there  had  not  time  to  stop  us.  There 
was  another  wood  and  then,  at  last,  we  were  in  the 


The  Last  Fragments  of  Antwerp  219 

thicket.  Behind  us,  we  gradually  heard  less  and  less 
noise,  and  the  firing  was  farther  oil  and  at  longer 
intervals.  Still  running,  we  described  a  series  of 
zigzags  and  curves,  leaving  behind  us  ditches,  clear- 
ings, and  glades.  .  .  .  Finally,  in  the  midst  of  a  patch 
of  young  fir-trees,  I  fell  down.  I  could  not  have  got 
up  again  though  for  anything.  The  others  stretched 
themselves  out  near  me  and  we  all  lay  there,  like  so 
many  dead  men,  in  the  wet  grass. 

The  day  broke,  a  fine  rain  fell  persistently,  wetting 
us  through  to  the  skin.  We  were  shivering  in  every 
limb.  Jeanjean  coughed,  snored,  and  talked  in  his 
sleep.  The  two  Flemish  men  joked,  swore,  and 
insulted  each  other,  each  treating  the  other  as  a 
coward.  .  .  .  Gilissen,  the  little  Liege  "rossai,"  was 
the  only  one  who  kept  silence.  He  was  trying,  con- 
scientiously, to  sleep  with  one  eye  and  to  take  stock 
of  our  surroundings  with  the  other  one.  I  reminded 
him  of  that  time  when  he  had  been  on  observation 
for  the  Barchon  Fort  and  had  remained  for  forty- 
eight  hours  perched  up  on  his  steeple,  surrounded 
by  Germans,  and  had  come  back  to  the  Fort  with  all 
the  material  of  the  observation  post. 

Jeanjean,  who  certainly  did  not  appear  able  to 
sleep  well,  now  felt  it  his  duty  to  compose  the  menu. 
"Anchovies,  "  he  said,  "salmon  trout,  stuffed  chicken, 
cream  cakes,"  and  I  do  not  know  what  beside.  I 
found  half  a  turnip  in  my  pocket,  Gilissen  had  three 
sweetmeats,  and  the  ground  near  us  was  strewn  with 
acorns.  We  were  all  right,  and  could  certainly  sustain 
a  regular  siege ! 

I  looked  at  my  map,  a  Touring  Club  map,  which 
was  the  only  one  I  had.  To  my  horror,  I  discovered 
that  all  the  incidents  of  the  night,  and  the  various 


220  Brave  Belgians 

turns  we  had  been  obliged  to  make,  had  made  us 
describe  an  immense  semicircle  and  that,  at  that 
moment,  we  were  less  than  a  mile  from  the  frontier 
and  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  Germans. 

In  the  wood,  the  firing  began  again.  We  heard  it 
in  the  distance  and  then  nearer  to  us.  It  was  an 
organised  search.  Presently,  this  pursuit  made  us  a 
little  anxious,  for  the  bullets  broke  some  branches  near 
us.  We  were  obliged  to  leave  our  shelter  and  we 
went  along  under  cover  of  a  deep  ditch.  At  the  end 
of  this  we  came  out  and  found  ourselves — ten  yards 
away  from  a  group  of  Prussians.  We  rushed  into  a 
thicket  and  the  hunt  began  again. 

Presently  there  was  a  fresh  respite  for  us,  as  quite 
suddenly  some  quick  firing  was  heard  near  by  in  a 
southerly  direction.  It  sounded  like  an  engagement 
and  we  wondered  what  it  could  be.  Perhaps  it  was  a 
Belgian  troop,  trying,  like  us,  to  get  free.  Extra- 
ordinary as  this  supposition  was,  it  was  the  only  one 
that  seemed  probable.  In  case  we  were  right,  it  was 
our  duty  to  endeavoiu"  to  join  it,  at  any  cost,  and  work 
together.  Perhaps  our  unexpected  intervention,  in- 
significant though  it  should  be,  might  be  sufficient  to 
decide  the  issue  of  the  fight.  Vv'e  moved  on  and  had 
scarcely  gone  two  hundred  yards,  when  we  saw  a 
group  of  peasants  coming  out  of  a  glade.  They 
looked  terrified.  We  questioned  them  and  found 
out  that  the  Boches  were  firing  on  the  houses  in  the 
village,  under  the  pretext  that  the  inhabitants  had 
hidden  some  Belgian  soldiers.  The  brutes!  In- 
stinctively, I  moved  forwards,  but  the  bullets  whizzed 
by,  quite  close  to  our  ears.  This  time,  they  came  from 
every  side.  On  the  left,  on  the  right,  the  Germans 
were  everywhere,  the  whole  place  swarmed  with  them. 


The  Last  Fragments  of  Antwerp  221 

like  a  veritable  ant-heap.  From  thicket  to  thicket, 
from  ditch  to  ditch,  we  struggled  along  in  order  to 
avoid  being  surrounded.  But,  alas,  we  were  going 
backwards  and  behind  us  was  the  frontier!  Finally, 
we  reached  it.  There  was  the  line  and  that  open 
view  beyond — a  hundred  yards  away  from  us  was 
Holland!  It  was  the  only  side  on  which  Death  would 
not  mow  us  down.  Snysters  swore  like  a  demon. 
We  took  counsel  together  in  whispers.  There  were 
three  things  open  to  us.  First,  we  might  give  our- 
selves up  to  the  Germans,  but  we  had  no  idea  of  doing 
that.  Secondly,  we  might  let  them  kill  us  here,  on 
the  last  little  corner  of  our  native  land.  This  was 
tempting,  but  we  could  not  rejoin  our  army  if  we 
decided  on  it.  There  was  one  other  alternative, 
and  that  was  to  keep  close  to  the  frontier  and  continue 
our  way,  endeavouring  to  escape  the  German  pursuit 
and  the  Dutch  sentry.  This  seemed  to  us  the  wisest 
plan  of  the  three.  We  soon  cleared  the  hundred  yards. 
There  was  an  iron  milestone  at  the  corner  of  a  wood. 
A  few  steps  and  then  we  were  in  Holland. 

Prisoners 

The  enemy  from  henceforth  was  the  sentry,  whom 
we  had  to  avoid  in  order  to  continue  our  way.  We 
started  along  a  sandy  road  in  the  midst  of  a  thick 
fir-wood.  We  had  not  gone  a  hundred  yards,  when  we 
found  ourselves  in  front  of  a  tall  Dutch  Sergeant,  who 
made  a  sign  for  us  to  stop.  I  looked  all  round  just  as  a 
hunted  beast  does.  In  the  clearing,  out  of  which  the 
sub-officer  had  stepped,  I  saw  a  multitude  of  soldiers, 
with  orange-coloured  stripes,  walking  along  a  road, 
together  with  civilians. 


222  Brave  Belgians 


t>' 


"Hang  it,"  I  said  to  myself,  "we  are  in  a  neutral 
country  and  are  bound  to  be  polite." 

I  entered  into  conversation  with  the  Dutchman.  I 
endeavoured  to  make  him  understand  that  everyone 
is  liable  to  make  a  mistake  in  the  road.  I  apologised 
and,  moving  back,  assured  him  that  we  would 
recross  the  frontier  by  the  shortest  cut  possible.  This 
did  not  meet  with  his  approval,  though,  at  all,  and 
the  great  lanky  fellow  smiled  amiably  in  reply  to  my 
speech  and  invited  us,  very  calmly,  to  accompany 
him.  We  had  nothing  left  but  to  obey,  as  we  were 
already  surrounded  by  soldiers,  and  they  looked 
devilishly  in  earnest.  I  hid  my  sword  under  a  bush 
and  I  took  off  my  officer's  insignia,  to  spare  it  shame, 
and  in  order  to  be  less  noticed  myself. 

When  we  were  at  the  police  station,  we  threw  our 
guns  down  on  a  heap  of  plunder  and  then  we  were  led 
away. 

Disarmed  and  prisoners!  Ah,  there  was  no  more 
laughing  now!  My  four  wolves,  transformed  against 
their  will  into  lambs,  were  furious,  and  ready  to  gnaw 
their  own  fists.  As  for  me,  I  felt  myself  degraded 
and  I  could  have  wept  with  shame  and  rage.  I 
thought  I  could  read  in  the  eyes  of  the  people,  who  were 
watching  us  pass  by,  a  smile  of  pity  and  of  contemipt, 
and  I  was  grief  stricken  at  having  exposed  our  uni- 
form to  such  dishonour.  Ah,  how  I  regretted  having 
crossed  the  fatal  line!  How  stupid  of  us  to  have  let 
ourselves  be  caught  like  this !  Not  one  of  us  uttered 
a  word.  We  did  not  reply  to  the  questions  we  were 
asked.  We  were  like  feline  animals,  caught  in  a  trap, 
looking  furtively  for  any  way  of  escape.  It  was 
a  fixed  idea  with  us  to  get  back  to  Belgium,  and  we 
felt  that  we  must  be  back  there  the  following  day. 


The  Last  Fragments  of  Antwerp  223 

We  were  put  with  a  convoy  of  prisoners.  How 
shall  I  describe  the  painful  journey  of  that  lamentable 
herd  of  men!  Oh,  the  humiliation  of  that  procession 
of  soldiers  without  arms!  On  turning  a  street,  we 
made  off,  but  we  were  brought  back.  At  Temeuzen, 
we  made  a  second  attempt  to  escape.  Together  with 
another  comrade,  who  was  ready  to  make  common 
cause  with  us,  we  tried  to  get  some  civilian  clothes. 
It  was  useless.  The  ready-made-clothes  shops  were 
shut  and  no  one  would  supply  us  with  any.  In 
desperation,  I  placed  my  men  in  two  ranks,  put  on 
my  officer's  insignia  again,  and  we  marched  quietly 
towards  the  gate  of  the  town.  We  were  stopped 
on  the  way  by  the  sentry. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  we  were  asked. 

"ToSas-de-Gand." 

"What  for?" 

"To  fetch  some  teams  for  the  ambulance  carriages." 

"Who  sent  you?" 

"The  officer  at  the  bridge." 

Our  questioner  did  not  look  thoroughly  convinced. 

"Forward— March!" 

We  did  not  need  telling  a  second  time.  At  the 
boundary  postern,  we  were  questioned  again.  As  we 
put  on  a  calm,  assured  manner  and  were  very  grufl, 
our  stratagem  succeeded  again.  We  were  now  on  the 
Selzaete  main  road,  and  in  two  hours  we  should  be 
on  Belgian  soil,  if  all  continued  satisfactorily.  Our 
feet  now  seemed  to  have  wings.  Half  way,  alas,  we 
came  across  another  sentry-box  and  here  a  telephonic 
message  had  been  received  with  regard  to  our  escape. 
In  this  land  of  canals  and  dykes,  things  are  easy  for 
the  authorities.  We  were  arrested  and  taken  back  to 
Temeuzen,  between  two  rows  of  soldiers  with  drawn 


224  Brave  Belgians 

bayonets.  This  fresh  attempt  made  things  bad  for  us, 
and  we  were  now  considered  dangerous  individuals, 
put  on  to  a  boat,  and  carefully  guarded.  We  were 
then  sent  off  by  water,  with  a  group  of  prisoners,  to  an 
unknown  destination. 

It  was  dark  and  I  was  lying  down  on  the  bridge, 
although  it  was  icy  cold,  looking  at  the  stars,  whilst 
on  the  coast  the  Quays  seemed  to  be  flying  behind  us. 
We  had  been  sailing  along  for  some  time,  and  I  sup- 
posed we  were  now  in  front  of  Flushing.  There  were 
more  canals,  which  seemed  to  intersect  each  other 
endlessly.  I  wondered  where  we  were  going,  and  all 
night  long  we  went  on  and  on. 

In  the  morning  the  boat  stopped.  On  the  Quay, 
the  crowd  hurried  towards  us  and  threw  us  bread  and 
fruit.  There  was  great  confusion,  shouting,  and  a 
regular  tumult.  This  was  the  moment  for  us.  We 
stepped  over  the  netting,  jumped  on  to  the  Quay, 
and  hid  ourselves  in  some  enormous  packing  cases 
filled  with  manure,  which  were  standing  near.  We 
had  not  been  seen,  so  that  all  seemed  right.  The  tow- 
ing-boat  whistled  for  the  departure,  but,  unfortu- 
nately, we  were  too  well  known.  Our  absence  was 
noticed,  and  we  were  once  more  discovered  and  taken 
on  board. 

For  hours  we  continued  on  the  water,  in  the  im- 
mense arms  of  the  sea  and  we  did  not  stop  anywhere 
on  our  way.  Water,  water  everywhere!  How  should 
we  ever  escape?  The  first  thing  for  us  to  do,  evidently, 
was  to  procure  some  civilian  clothes.  On  the  boat, 
certain  prisoners  were  already  dressed  as  ordinary 
citizens.  We  talked  to  some  of  them  quietly,  and 
offered  to  exchange  our  uniforms  for  their  garments. 


The  Last  Fragments  of  Antwerp  225 

Very  soon,  we  were  wearing  the  finest  dockers'  suits 
imaginable.  We  could  not  help  laughing  to  see  what 
ruffians  we  looked  in  this  fresh  disguise.  Snysters 
looked  like  a  regular  hooligan,  Jeanjean  wore  a  thread- 
bare flannel  suit,  which  outlined  his  corpulent  figure 
admirably.  Gilissen  looked  like  a  collier  and  I  like  a 
miserable  beggar.  Rolent,  our  new  recruit,  with  his 
soft  felt  hat,  was  the  one  who  looked  the  most  decent. 
Van  Bastelaer  refused  obstinately  to  take  off  his 
uniform.  It  was  unfortunate  for  him,  as  he  was  not 
able  to  get  away  with  us. 

Finally,  we  reached  Dordrecht.  The  convoy  was 
allowed  to  land,  so  that  the  prisoners  might  have  a 
meal  at  the  barracks.  After  this,  we  were  to  be  taken 
to  Groningen,  in  Friesland,  to  be  interned  there. 

"Groningen,  merciful  Heavens!"  we  said  to  our- 
selves; "we  absolutely  must  find  a  way  of  escape  from 
here,  as  this  is  the  last  good  card  left  in  our  hands." 

We  were  placed  four  abreast  and,  between  two 
rows  of  soldiers,  the  troop  set  out.  The  streets  were  full 
of  spectators,  who  asked  the  soldiers  for  buttons  and 
cartridges  as  keepsakes.  This  was  just  the  thing  for 
us.  One  of  us,  at  the  turn  of  a  street,  set  to  work 
distributing  so  generously  that  a  crowd  collected  and 
there  was  disorder,  and  a  break  in  the  line  of  the 
troops.  That  was  just  what  we  needed  and,  very 
simply,  turning  half  round  we  took  our  place  with  the 
crowd,  and  watched  the  procession  pass,  like  all  the 
other  good  people. 

Oh,  liberty!  In  order  to  relish  its  sweetness,  we 
must  first  have  been  deprived  of  it  for  a  time!  How 
joyfully  we  went  along  in  those  narrow  streets  where 
we  were  quite  unknown!  How  eagerly  we  discussed 
our  plans  for  returning  to  our  "free"  Belgium! 

IS 


226  Brave  Belgians 

The  Return 


We  had  the  good  luck  to  find  a  courageous  Belgian 
boatman  at  Dordrecht.  He  put  us  up  on  his  boat 
and  provided  us  with  the  wherewithal  for  reaching 
Flushing.  Once  there,  mingling  with  the  refugees, 
we  had  no  difficulty  in  passing  unnoticed.  We  were 
at  last  on  our  way  to  Belgium:  boat,  train,  carriages, 
motor-car,  waggons,  every  kind  of  transport  did  we 
make  use  of  in  order  to  hasten  our  return.  Our 
determination  carried  us  through. 

Finally,  we  reached  the  frontier  and  our  feet  were 
on  Belgian  soil.  Oh  bliss,  no  words  can  describe  the 
feelings  we  had  at  that  moment !  It  was  then  that  I 
understood  fully  what  the  love  of  one's  country  really 
is.  The  very  air  seemed  purer,  the  ground  looked 
different,  and  we  knew  all  the  odours  and  the  grasses 
which  grew  in  the  ditches  by  the  roadside.  The  trees 
welcomed  us  and  their  branches  told  us  over  again 
old  things  that  we  already  knew,  with  their  familiar 
swayings,  which  awoke  in  the  bottom  of  our  hearts 
all  kinds  of  adorable  and  mysterious  memories.  Oh, 
that  profound  life  in  all  things,  how  it  drank  in  and 
absorbed  the  life  of  our  very  souls,  and  with  what 
happiness  this  expanded  and  mingled  again  with  that 
other  life! 

The  soul  of  our  country  was  in  everything  and, 
whilst  murmuring  its  captivating  song,  with  its  smile 
both  sad  and  gay,  it  seemed  to  take  us  under  its  wings 
and  at  the  same  time  implore  our  aid. 

Poor  Belgium!  Mother  of  my  blood  and  of  my 
life,  I  should  have  liked  to  kiss  thy  martyred  ground ! 
But  what  my  burning  kiss  could  not  have  told  you 
then,  my  blood,  which  is  thine,  shall  tell  thee  some 


The  Last  Fragments  of  Antwerp  227 

day,  when  it  waters  the  soil  for  thee,  glad  to  fertilise 
the  germ  of  thy  liberty ! 

We  walked  on,  happy  and  feverishly  anxious, 
hurrying  on  with  all  our  strength,  in  order  to  be  ready 
for  that  invading  stream  which  was  on  its  way  to  our 
coast  and  which  might  cut  us  off  a  second  time. 

Finally,  at  Ostend,  we  found  the  very  last  of  our 
columns  pressed  on  closely  by  the  Germans.  With 
our  columns  we  reached  Furnes,  where  the  King  was. 

No  one  recognised  us  at  first,  such  wretched  objects 
did  we  look.  We  were  all  five  of  us  at  the  end  of  our 
tether.  One  or  two  of  us  could  not  walk  any  farther, 
and  the  others  were  as  though  dazed.  But  we  had 
drawn  from  the  struggle,  with  the  joy  of  having  done 
our  duty,  a  force  that  was  infinitely  greater  and  more 
precious  than  bodily  force.  It  was  the  force  of  the 
heart  that  loves,  whose  will  is  imperious  and  can 
accomplish  what  it  wills,  for  the  sake  of  that  love! 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
Tournai 

By  Gexeral-Major  Frantz 

On  our  arrival  at  Tournai,  towards  the  end  of 
September,  19 14,  we  were  welcomed  as  the  saviours 
of  the  country.  Our  arrival  was  supposed  to  mean 
the  reconquering  of  the  whole  province  of  Hainault. 
The  inhabitants  of  Tournai  had  already  suffered  by 
the  first  invasion  and  on  seeing  me,  with  my  Staff 
and  troops,  they  imagined  that  they  were  now  saved. 
They  were  all  the  more  convinced  of  this  as  some  French 
troops  arrived  at  the  same  time.  Alas,  these  troops 
were  composed  of  a  Battalion  of  Territorials,  who  had 
never  been  under  fire,  and  a  Squadron  of  Chasseurs, 
also  Territorials,  commanded  by  a  Captain  of  fifty 
years  of  age;  two  Squadrons  of  Algerian  goumiers 
of  all  ages  and  tribes,  who  looked  superb.  They  were 
cavalrymen  with  brown  faces,  and  were  wearing  their 
white  burnous  and  carrying  their  long,  slender  guns 
in  their  shoulder  belts.  Their  Sheiks,  who  had 
already  fought  for  France,  were  proud  of  the  crosses 
of  the  Legion  of  Honour  which  they  wore. 

These  troops  did  not  look  sufficient  for  the  defence 
of  the  town  and  Baron  Stienon  du  Pre,  the  Burgo- 
master, asked  the  Commander  of  the  French  troops 
if   they   would  really   prove  an   efficient   protection, 

228 


Tournai  229 

or  whether  they  would  have  no  reinforcements  and 
would  have  to  leave  Tournai  to  its  fate,  on  the  first 
attack. 

When  the  Germans  had  made  their  first  appearance 
here,  Tournai  had  been  ordered  by  them  to  pay  a  tax 
of  three  million  francs,  and  whilst  this  sum  was  being 
found,  by  means  of  a  house  to  house  collection,  the 
Burgomaster  and  several  other  prominent  men  had 
been  taken  to  Ath,  as  hostages.  From  there,  they 
were  sent  to  Brussels  and  imprisoned  nine  days,  al- 
though the  simi  exacted  had  been  handed  over  to 
the  enemy. 

The  French  Commander  considered  the  Burgo- 
master's question  a  poor  kind  of  welcome,  and  I  asked 
the  latter  for  an  explanation.  He  apologised  amply 
and  assured  us  of  the  absolute  loyalty  of  himself 
and  of  all  his  citizens.  After  this,  the  French  had  no 
further  cause  for  complaint  with  regard  to  their 
reception  by  the  inhabitants  of  Tournai.  The  re- 
membrance of  their  sufferings  was,  however,  too  re- 
cent for  the  prominent  men  not  to  dread  a  renewal  of 
them.  The  evil  days  when  they  had  all  been  living 
under  the  Prussian  heel  was  uppermost  in  the  thoughts 
of  all  the  townspeople.  We  were  constantly  being 
asked  by  them  whether  the  Germans  had  been  de- 
finitely driven  back,  etc.  .  .  .  Unfortunately  the 
information  I  received  prevented  my  giving  them  an 
assurance  of  this. 

For  several  days  we  lived  at  Tournai  in  constant 
danger  of  a  fresh  invasion.  I  took  the  precaution 
to  have  all  the  Civic  Guard  Scout  Chasseurs 
provided  afresh  with  arms.  Their  own  guns  were  now 
in  France  and  in  different  places  in  Belgium,  so 
that  instead  of  their  Mausers  they   were   supplied 


230  Brave  Belgians 

with  Gras  rifles.  This  did  not  inspire  them  with  con- 
fidence. They  were  absolutely  lacking  in  initiative, 
but  were  always  very  willing.  My  principal  forces 
consisted  of  about  a  hundred  Gendarmes  of  the  Hain- 
ault  province,  under  Lieutenant-Colonel  Bloem,  of  the 
Gendarmerie.  I  supplied  my  men  and,  later  on, 
my  volunteers,  with  fifty-seven  new  bicycles,  which 
the  Germans  had  left  behind  them  in  their  sudden 
retreat.  Thanks  to  these  machines,  I  was  able  to  send 
patrols  out  to  a  good  distance.  They  managed  to 
bring  back  a  great  deal  of  useful  information  and  they 
succeeded  in  killing,  or  taking  prisoners,  a  certain 
number  of  Uhlans.  At  the  same  time,  we  managed 
to  convince  the  enemy  that  considerable  troops  were 
massed  at  Tournai  and  in  the  neighbourhood,  and 
this  illusion  delayed  their  march  forward.  The 
famous  German  spying  system  was  very  defective 
here,  and  our  enemies  knew  so  little  about  the  troops 
advancing  on  Tournai  that,  believing  they  had  no 
time  to  take  their  wour^ded  away  with  them,  they 
had  left  a  certain  number  in  our  hospitals.  I  sent 
them  away  promptly,  as  prisoners,  to  Bruges. 

On  the  30th  of  September,  1914, 1  learnt  that  enemy 
troops  of  all  arms,  estimated  at  10,000  to  15,000  men, 
had  reached  Ath  and,  in  the  afternoon,  had  sent 
their  outposts  to  Ligne,  about  half  way  to  Leuze. 
We  might,  therefore,  expect  to  be  attacked  the  follow- 
ing day.  I  sent  a  request  for  help  to  Lieutenant- 
General  Clooten,  who  provided  me  with  about  a 
hundred  volunteers  from  Eecloo.  Their  instruction 
had  only  been  rudimentary,  but  they  we^e  excellent 
men. 

As  we  had  no  Artillery,  I  sent  an  urgent  request  to 
the  Commander  of  the  French  Division  of  Douai  to 


Tournai  231 

come  to  our  help,  but  he  could  not,  as  he  was  threatened 
on  three  sides  at  the  same  time.  We  were,  therefore, 
reduced  to  Gendarmes,  to  Scout  Chasseurs,  and  to 
the  Eecloo  Volunteers,  with  the  addition  of  a  Cyclist 
Corps  under  Lieutenant  Gdrard.  This  officer  had 
been  ordered  to  destroy  the  Thulin  bridge,  over  the 
canal  from  Mons  to  Cond<S.  Unfortunately,  the 
Belgians  were  betrayed  by  a  woman  in  the  neighbour- 
hood and  fell  into  an  ambush,  thereby  losing  forty 
men  out  of  the  hundred  and  twenty  of  which  their 
contingent  was  composed.  The  others  fell  back  on 
Tournai.  They  were  all  daring  young  men,  full  of 
enthusiasm,  and  quite  ready  to  undertake  the  most 
dangerous  missions  in  the  enemy's  lines.  I  remember, 
among  others,  a  soldier  of  the  12th  Line  Regiment. 
He  had  walked  some  miles,  bringing  a  wounded  com- 
rade with  him  in  a  wheelbarrow. 

Towards  ten  o'clock  at  night,  on  the  30th  of  Septem- 
ber, Lieutenant  Gerard  had  come  to  me  and  placed 
himself  at  my  service.  I  explained  to  him  the  situa- 
tion, and  that  very  night  he  went  and  blew  up  several 
fortification  works  on  the  railway  line  between  Ath 
and  Leuze. 

At  midnight.  Lieutenant  Gerard  came  to  tell  me 
that  he  had  been  beyond  Ligne  and  had  succeeded 
in  his  daring  enterprise.  Thanks  to  this  bold  expe- 
dition, the  first  Uhlan  patrols  did  not  reach  Tournai 
till  late  the  following  morning. 

As  we  were  threatened  from  the  south-east  as  well 
as  from  the  south,  I  was  obliged  to  divide  my  poor 
forces  in  a  way  to  bar  the  passage  for  the  enemy  in 
these  two  directions,  and  also  towards  the  north-east, 
on  the  Tournai-Frasnes  road.  In  the  plains,  my 
patrols   of   Gendarmes  and   Volunteers   scoured  the 


232  Brave  Belgians 

country.  My  method  was  to  send  out  strong  patrols 
of  twenty  men,  half  of  them  Gendarmes  and  half  Volun- 
teers. I  gave  them  instructions  to  await  the  patrols 
of  enemy  Cavalry,  until  they  were  only  one  hundred 
yards  away,  so  that  the}^  could  fire  effectually,  and  not 
to  let  either  a  horse  or  its  rider  escape. 

On  the  northern  border  of  a  little  wood,  about  a  mile 
and  a  half  to  the  west  of  Ramecroix,  to  the  south  of  the 
Tournai-Leuze  road,  a  patrol  of  twenty  men,  under  the 
orders  of  Captain  Motry  of  the  Gendarmerie,  allowed 
an  enemy  patrol  of  seven  men,  commanded  by  an  offi- 
cer, to  approach  within  a  hundred  yards.  With  one  sin- 
gle volley,  they  then  brought  down  all  the  riders  with 
their  horses.  Our  soldiers  took  the  horses'  bits  and 
the  overcoats  of  the  men  they  had  killed,  in  order 
to  show  me  the  result  of  their  work,  and  made  off  at 
once,  as,  to  the  south  of  the  wood,  a  second  enemy 
patrol  was  on  its  wa}'  to  the  rescue  of  the  first  one. 
A  good  number  of  Uhlans  of  this  fresh  troop  also 
had  to  eat  the  dust. 

We  could  not,  nevertheless,  hold  out  against 
hordes  twenty  times,  or  rather  fifty  times,  superior 
in  numbers  to  ourselves.  Towards  mid-day,  the 
French  beat  a  retreat  in  the  midst  of  the  exodus  of 
the  unfortunate  inhabitants  of  the  town.  At  Orcq, 
I  showed  the  Major  in  command  a  magnificent  place 
from  which  he  could  sweep  the  whole  country  right 
up  to  the  entrance  to  Tournai.  He  took  up  position 
there,  but  soon  after  received  orders  to  continue  the 
retreat  towards  the  west,  that  is  towards  Lille. 

The  French  had  left  behind  them,  at  the  St.  Jean 
Barracks,  all  that  would  have  impeded  their  retreat: 
wounded  and  sick,  horses,  luggage,  etc. 

Before  leaving  Tournai,  it  occurred  to  me  to  go  and 


Tournai  233 

see  what  had  become  of  this  convoy.  It  was  a  fortu- 
nate thing  that  I  did  so,  as  no  one  had  any  idea  of  the 
immediate  danger.  I  had  only  just  time  to  give  orders 
to  the  senior  Quartermaster  to  collect  all,  men, 
horses,  and  baggage,  and  to  set  out  for  the  Tournai- 
Lille  road,  where  they  would  find  the  French  troops. 
At  the  same  time,  I  told  my  patrols  to  guard  all  the 
roads  out,  in  order  to  allow  the  goumiers  and  mounted 
Chasseurs  to  keep  their  retreat  line  in  the  direction  of 
Lille.     They  were  all  saved ! 

With  my  Staff,  I  took  up  quarters  in  the  Froyennes 
Convent,  on  the  Toumai-Courtrai,  road  where,  thanks 
to  a  telephone,  I  could  communicate  with  the  various 
Gendarmerie  posts.  The  Brothers  of  the  Christian 
Doctrine,  who  were  nearly  all  French,  received  us 
with  open  arms  and,  in  spite  of  our  protestations, 
while  we  were  getting  information  and  I  was  giving 
orders,  they  prepared  a  meal  for  us  and  looked  after 
us  generally. 

They  had  transformed  their  convent  into  a  hospital 
and,  unfortunately,  all  their  trouble  only  served  for 
the  Boche  wounded,  as  I  received  strict  orders,  in 
case  the  French  left  Tournai,  to  beat  a  retreat  in  the 
direction  of  Courtrai  and  to  organise  the  defence  of  the 
Espierres  canal. 

I  started  at  once  and  arrived  at  Espierres  on  Thurs- 
day, October  ist.  I  saw  at  once  that  all  the  draw- 
bridges of  the  canal  opened  on  the  south  side,  that  is 
on  the  enemy's  side,  and  that  it  was  impossible  to 
change  them  and  make  the  bridges  work  on  our  side, 
that  is  on  the  north  side.  This  was  most  unfortunate, 
and  is  another  proof  how  little  we  had  thought  of 
going  to  war.  I  quartered  my  Staff  at  Dottignies 
and  took  measures  for  guarding  the  various  points 


234  Brave  Belgians 

where  it  was  possible  to  cross  the  canal  between  the 
village  of  Espierres  (Escaut)  and  the  Herseaux- 
Tournai  railway.  This  compelled  me  to  spread  out 
my  men  and  so  divide  my  poor  forces,  on  account  of 
the  number  of  bridges.  For  the  next  three  days  we 
were  in  contact  with  the  enemy.  We  drove  back 
patrols  and  took  prisoners.  My  young  Volunteers 
were  under  fire  for  the  first  time,  but  they  were  so 
brave  and  so  eager  to  fight  that,  on  the  second  day,  I 
made  seven  soldiers  Corporals  for  their  conduct  before 
the  enemy.  This  encouraged  the  others,  as  they  all 
wanted  to  distinguish  themselves. 

On  Saturday,  October  3rd,  at  dusk,  the  enemy,  after 
being  driven  back  three  times,  came  again  in  force  and 
drove  back  two  of  my  posts  at  the  extreme  right. 
On  another  side,  the  enemy  advanced  by  Herseaux 
and  Estampuis.  I  was  in  this  way  turned  on  my  right 
and,  at  the  same  time,  wedged  in  at  Espierres.  I  had 
only  just  time  to  constitute  a  strong  flank-guard  of 
Gendarmes  and  Cyclist  Volunteers  to  oppose  the  en- 
veloping movement  and  beat  a  retreat  in  the  direction 
of  Courtrai.  We  were  being  pursued  all  the  time  and 
our  march  was  difficult,  on  account  of  the  darkness. 
I  stopped  a  local  tramcar  coming  from  Courtrai  and 
put  the  Tournai  Civic  Guards  into  it.  These  men 
had  no  notion  of  a  fighting  retreat.  Half  way  from 
Courtrai,  I  met  the  East  Flanders  Gendarmes  coming 
to  our  aid  and,  under  their  protection,  we  reached 
Courtrai. 

At  the  roll-call  of  my  soldiers,'!  saw  that  three  of  my 
Volunteers  were  missing.  I  thought  they  were  either 
dead,  wounded,  or  prisoners.  Not  at  all.  These 
three  brave  men  had  performed  the  following  exploit. 
On  Sunday  morning,  October  4th,  two  of  these  missing 


Tournai  235 

men  arrived  at  Courtrai,  carrying  the  saddles  of  two 
Uhlans  with  all  accessories.  Tjiey  had  carried  this 
weight,  about  80  lbs.  each,  from  Espierres,  through 
the  enemy's  lines,  a  distance  of  about  twelve  miles. 
When  we  questioned  them,  they  replied  that  they  knew 
we  were  beating  a  retreat  towards  Courtrai,  but  they 
each  wanted  to  "have  their  Prussian"  before  railing. 
They  had  been  pursued  by  the  Uhlans  along  the 
canal  bank.  They  had  crossed  the  muddy  Espierres 
brook,  which  runs  parallel  with  the  canal,  on  a  plank 
of  wood.  The  Uhlans  had  attempted  to  do  the  same 
thing,  but  had  sunk  in  the  mud.  Our  soldiers  had 
killed  them  and  had  dragged  the  horses  out  and 
taken  the  saddles,  in  order  to  prove  to  us  that  they 
had  attained  their  object.  The  third  missing  soldier 
brought  back  to  Courtrai  a  horse,  fully  equipped, 
after  having  killed  its  rider.  He  had  come  back  quite 
alone  with  his  plunder.  We  thought  these  feats 
superb,  considering  that  they  had  all  three  come 
through  an  invaded  district. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

Dixmude 

From  an  Account  given  by  Ernest  Collin,  a  Private  of  the 

I2TH  Line  Regiment,  and  Completed  by  Ernest  Job, 

A  Corporal  in  the  same  regiment 

As  soon  as  the  enemy  began  to  attack  the  Forts 
with  an  Artillery  so  powerful  that  no  permanent 
fortifications  could  resist,  the  Staff  realised  that  Ant- 
werp was  lost,  and  that  all  efforts  must  be  made  to 
save  the  fighting  army. 

The  retreat  began  in  the  evening  of  the  6th  of  Octo- 
ber. It  was  admirably  organised,  but  it  meant  exces- 
sive and  inevitable  fatigue  for  the  troops.  The  3rd 
Division,  which  covered  the  most  exposed  flank  of 
the  army,  had  the  hardest  task,  as  it  was  compelled 
to  make  continual  night  marches,  without  any  rest 
whatever. 

From  Antwerp  to  Ghent,  our  Battalion  had  to 
march  all  the  time  and  our  difficulties  were  increased 
by  the  combats  we  had  to  wage  at  Lokeren  and  at 
Oostacker.  On  their  arrival  at  Tronchiennes,  on  the 
9th  of  October,  our  men  were  thoroughly  exhausted. 
The  following  da}^  at  five  in  the  morning,  the  12th  Line 
Regiment  and  the  greater  part  of  the  3rd  Division 
were  sent  by  train  to  Nieuport,  where  they  arrived 
in  the  afternoon.     The  exhaustion  of  the  soldiers  was 

236 


Dixmude  237 

so  great  that  it  was  necessary  to  give  them  two  or 
three  days'  rest.  On  the  I3ih  we  set  off  once  more, 
and  on  the  14th  we  took  up  our  position  along  the 
Yser.  It  was  a  very  good  Hne  of  defence,  reaching 
from  the  North  Sea  at  Boesinghe,  along  the  river  as 
far  as  Knocke  and,  beyond  that  town,  following  the 
Yperlde  canal.'  From  Nieuport-Bains  to  Boesinghe, 
the  line  measured  about  22  miles,  an  extent  not  at  all 
out  of  proportion  to  the  strength  of  the  Belgian 
army,  which  was  then  reduced  to  82,000  men  with 
48,000  guns.  The  whole  country  is  interspersed 
with  ditches,  canals,  and  rivers,  and  the  supreme 
resource  was  that,  at  Nieuport,  we  had  a  dyke  system 
which  allowed  us  to  inundate  the  country  where 
German  forces  might  be  too  strong. 

At  daybreak,  on  the  15th  of  October,  we  were  at 
work.  We  made  trenches  at  Leke,  Pervyse,  and 
Oudecapelle  and  we  were  lodged,  more  or  less  com- 
fortably, in  sheds  and  barns.  The  trenches  and  the 
movements  of  the  troops  gave  us  plenty  to  think 
about.  In  the  distance,  the  cannon  was  roaring, 
and  its  sullen  voice  came  nearer  and  nearer  every 
minute.  What  was  going  to  happen?  All  kinds  of 
conjectures  came  into  the  minds  of  the  soldiers.  For 
the  last  two  days,  they  had  had  no  bread,  but,  fortu- 
nately, there  were  biscuits  to  appease  their  hunger. 
Some  French  bread  was  then  distributed,  but,  al- 
though it  was  good,  it  did  not  take  the  place  of  the 
national  brown  bread.  In  a  deserted  farm,  a  few 
dainty-lovers  massacred  some  poor  pigs.  When 
they  had  caught  one,  in  a  few  seconds  it  was  slaugh- 
tered, dressed,  and  cut  up,  and  then  each  man  went  off 
with  his  share. 

'  The  Campaig7i  0}  the  Belgian  Army. 


238  Brave  Belgians 

On  the  19th,  the  12th  Line  Regiment  had  orders 
to  occupy  Dixmude.  Up  to  that  date,  this  town  had 
been  defended  by  a  Brigade  of  Marine  Fusiliers,  who 
had  opened  fire  on  the  morning  of  the  i6th,  in  order  to 
drive  back  a  strong  body  of  enemy  reconnaissances. 

According  to  the  orders  commimicated  to  us,  the 
Brigade  B,  which  comprised  the  nth  and  12th,  as 
well  as  a  group  of  Artillery,  was  placed  at  the  disposal 
of  the  French  Admiral  Ronarc'h,  to  whom  the  defence 
of  the  Dixmude  bridge-head  had  been  entrusted. 

The  Admiral  gave  orders  to  the  Brigade  B  to  hold 
the  bridge-head  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Yser,  whilst 
his  sailors,  attached  to  the  Belgian  5th  Division, 
would  execute  an  offensive  in  a  northerly  direction. 

Our  immediate  Chiefs  were  Colonel  Jacques, 
commanding  the  12th  Regiment,  and  Colonel  Meiser, 
commanding  the  Brigade.  I  have  mentioned  the 
names  of  these  courageous  officers,  as  it  will  be  under- 
stood that,  led  by  such  men,  the  troops  had  confidence 
and  it  was  certain  that  the  soldiers  would  all  do  their 
duty.  We  were  absolutely  responsible  for  the  defence 
of  the  Yser.  The  King  had  appealed  to  us,  asking 
us  to  hold  this  line  for  the  next  forty-eight  hours, 
although  it  was  probable  that  the  Germans  would  do 
their  utmost  to  pierce  it.  We  had  all  given  our 
word  to  die  rather  than  to  yield  this  last  shred  of  our 
territory. 

On  the  19th  of  October,  which  was  a  bright,  sun- 
shiny day,  the  Regiment  was  assembled  at  Oudeca- 
pelle.  We  were  fully  aware  that  serious  things  were 
taking  place,  but  the  Colonel,  with  a  smile,  announced 
a  great  victory.  We  strapped  up  our  kits  gaily  and 
set  off,  thinking  of  our  return  to  reconquered  Liege. 

We  gradually  approached  oiu:   poor,   unfortunate 


Dixmude  239 

Dixmude.  When  we  entered  the  town,  we  were  sur- 
rounded by  an  anxious,  but  sympathetic  population. 
Very  many  refugees  were  already  on  the  way  towards 
more  favoured  countries.  These  poor  people,  flying 
from  the  invaded  towns  and  villages,  had  been  wander- 
ing aimlessly  day  and  night,  in  search  of  a  safe  and 
hospitable  district.  On  seeing  them,  I  was  seized 
with  fury  against  our  relentless  enemy,  and  I  thought 
of  my  own  family  and  of  all  those  I  loved,  whom  I 
should,  perhaps,  never  see  again. 

We  passed  through  the  town  and  took  up  our  posi- 
tion in  the  trenches,  which  had  been  quickly  prepared 
in  front  of  the  bridge-head.  There  was  no  doubt  but 
that  we  were  going  to  fight  again.  And  what  a 
fight  it  would  be !  The  fate  of  the  Allies  depended  on 
our  resisting  to  the  uttermost.  If  the  enemy  crossed, 
we  were  conquered.  With  the  most  determined 
resolution,  we  began  to  improve  our  position.  The 
Marine  Fusiliers  had  only  done  the  rough  part  of 
digging  out  the  trenches.  There  was  no  accessory 
defence  whatever,  no  wire,  and  nothing  demolished, 
so  that  our  defence  would  be  infinitely  more  difficult. 
Beside  this,  certain  trenches  had  been  established 
against  the  coverts.  The  first  thing  to  do  was  to 
complete  the  trenches  and  to  clear  the  firing  range 
within  the  near  zone.  We  set  to  work  energetically. 
It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  My  friend  Job 
was  at  work  fortifying  the  parapet  of  our  shelter, 
and  I  was  a  little  ahead  of  him  clearing  away  whatever 
obstructed  the  outlook.  Suddenly,  I  heard  a  whizzing 
sound  and  a  shell  destroyed  the  trench.  Several 
more  followed  and  I  was  knocked  down.  I  got  up 
again  and  ran  to  shelter.  The  shells  showered  down, 
and  all  kinds  of  debris  were  blown  up  in  the   air. 


240  Brave  Belgians 

I  looked  round  for  Job  and,  just  at  this  moment,  a 
projectile  fell  straight  on  to  his  parapet,  which  crum- 
bled away,  burying  him  under  it.  This  was  a  terrible 
moment  of  anxiety,  but  he  managed  to  extricate 
himself  and,  with  a  very  red  face,  escaped  to  another 
trench.  The  bombardment  continued  and,  at  the 
end  of  an  hour,  the  firing  took  a  longer  range  and 
projectiles  burst  on  the  town  itself.  It  took  us  a 
little  time  to  recover.  We  then  went  back  to  our 
holes,  or  rather  we  had  to  make  fresh  ones,  as  nothing 
remained  but  a  heap  of  rubbish,  and  I  could  neither 
find  my  arms  nor  my  kit.  I  was  obliged  to  take  those 
of  a  wounded  man  near. 

At  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  we  were  informed  that 
the  5th  Army  Division,  together  with  the  Marine 
Fusiliers,  was  to  cross  the  Yser  and  pass  to  the  left 
bank.  The  troops  in  position  were  to  protect  this 
retreat.  The  night  was  fairly  tranquil  and  it  was 
raining  even  in  the  trenches.  The  soldiers  were 
dozing,  with  their  arms  ready  in  case  of  an  attack. 
Each  man  was  his  own  sentinel  in  these  inconvenient 
holes.  Finally,  after  long  hours  of  anguish  and 
of  anxiety,  the  darkness  was  over  and  the  dawn 
comforted  us.  We  were  very  weary  and  we  hoped  to 
have  a  little  rest.  Alas,  the  enemy  was  advancing  and 
threatening  us  again.  At  eight  o'clock,  on  the  20th 
of  October,  the  bombardment  commenced.  It  was  an 
incessant  shower  of  big  shrapnels  and  of  mine  shells, 
a  sort  of  torpedo  shell,  which  burst  with  a  deafening 
noise  and  an  opaque  smoke.  The  moral  effect  was 
immense,  although  the  material  damage  was  not 
very  great.  Job  and  I  were  lying  face  downwards 
against  the  parapet,  helpless  and  dazed,  expecting 
to  be  killed  every  second. 


Dixmude  241 

For  long  hours,  that  seemed  like  centuries,  we  heard 
these  fatal  whizzings,  these  formidable  explosions, 
and  saw  our  men  lying  still  like  so  many  wax-work 
figures.  No  one  moved,  no  one  spoke  and  no  one 
could  eat  anything.  Only  the  sound  of  heavy  breath- 
ing broke  the  silence  of  the  trenches.  And  this  torture 
endured  until  two  in  the  afternoon.  Suddenly,  our 
advance  sentinels  signalled  the  arrival  of  Germans  in 
masses.  The  bombardment  was  the  prelude  to  an 
Infantry  attack,  which  began  at  half-past  two  in  the 
afternoon.  The  Artillery  firing  took  longer  aim,  in 
order  to  reach  points  behind  our  line.  Dixmude  was 
bombarded  to  the  uttermost,  in  order  to  prevent  the 
arrival  of  reserves  to  our  trenches.  In  the  German 
lines,  a  ceaseless  Infantry  firing  then  took  place 
and  the  lines  gradually  advanced.  The  enemy  made 
use  of  the  ground  and  the  numerous  coverts  in  the 
district,  as  the  firing  zone  had  not  been  cleared  to 
any  great  extent.  The  enemy  troops  did  not  reach 
the  assault  position,  as  the  firing  of  our  men  caused 
them  considerable  losses. 

At  this  moment,  my  platoon  Chief  sent  me  to  ask 
the  Captain  for  some  information.  I  crawled  away, 
but  on  my  return  I  found  my  Chief  wounded.  I 
wanted  to  take  him  away,  but  the  Captain  insisted 
on  my  returning  to  the  trench.  Our  cannons  were 
being  directed  on  to  a  wood  from  which  the  enemy 
was  coming.  The  battle  was  engaged  and  we  were 
all  possessed  with  the  fever  of  war  and  were  shoot- 
ing from  everywhere.  Dixmude  was  buried  under 
showers  of  shells  and  shrapnels.  The  Germans 
appeared  rapidly  on  all  sides.  We  were  threatened 
on  our  left  and,  under  the  intense  and  murderous 
fire,  the  Company  which  had  joined  us  had  all  its 
16 


242  Brave  Belgians 

officers  either  killed  or  wounded.  The  position  was 
impossible  to  hold.  The  men  still  left  evacuated 
the  trenches  and  went  about  two  hundred  yards  farther 
back.  In  spite  of  his  energy,  the  Major  was  thinking 
of  falling  back,  when  a  Company  of  the  nth  arrived, 
accompanied  by  Marine  Fusiliers.  These  brave  men 
marched  forward  and  reoccupied  the  lost  trenches. 
Many  of  my  comrades  had  been  struck  down.  I  took 
one  of  them  away  who  had  been  dazed  by  the  explo- 
sion of  a  shell  in  his  trench.  I  then  came  back, 
crouching  in  the  ditches  to  avoid  the  balls.  The 
shells  were  falling  on  every  side.  We  did  not  trouble 
any  more  about  them,  as  it  was  just  luck  whether  we 
were  hit  or  not.  I  wondered  whether  Job  were  still 
living.  I  did  not  know  and  I  could  not  see  him 
anywhere. 

It  was  getting  dark.  We  were  now  in  the  park, 
scattered  about  as  sharpshooters  behind  a  hedge. 
In  front  of  us  were  the  trenches  occupied  by  our  men, 
reinforced  by  the  Fusiliers.  Balls  were  whizzing 
about  everywhere.  Lying  down  sideways,  I  hollowed 
out  the  earth  with  my  shovel  and  made  a  slight 
parapet.  The  firing  became  more  and  more  intense. 
The  Boches  were  beginning  a  fresh  assault  and  we 
could  hear  them  distinctly  shouting  "Hoch!  Lebe 
der  Kaiser!"  It  was  a  sight  never  to  be  forgotten. 
In  the  trenches,  and  in  the  park,  a  strange-looking 
swarm  of  men.  By  the  light  of  the  flashes  from  the 
firing,  we  could  see  dark  figures  gliding  about,  running 
to  the  right,  to  the  left,  or  forward.  The  Belgians  and 
the  French  were  all  mingling  and  making  frantic 
efforts.  The  Artillery  ceased,  and  then  the  guns  and 
machine-guns  continued  alone.  What  a  diabolical 
concert  it  was!     It  seemed  as  though  hell  itself  had 


Dixmude  243 

been  let  loose.  With  their  fruitless  assaults,  the 
Boches  made  an  infernal  uproar.  They  yelled  like  sav- 
ages, their  clarions  rang  out,  and  they  were  beating 
their  drums.  The  cannon  began  again,  and  the  ma- 
chine-guns told  their  beads,  whilst  the  rifles  discharged 
murderous  volleys.  In  the  midst  of  the  darkness  we 
could  hear  shouts,  calls,  orders,  exclamations  of  all 
kinds.  Certain  French  soldiers,  in  spite  of  the  danger, 
when  the  Boches  ran  away,  seized  all  kinds  of  utensils 
and  banged  the  metal  together,  making  an  indes- 
cribable din.  It  was  tragically  comic,  for  in  the 
very  fiercest  of  the  fight  they  were  joking. 

The  enemy  tried  in  vain  to  take  our  trenches. 
Those  who  came  near  enough  to  us  were  mown  down. 
It  was  a  regular  massacre.  Listening  intently,  I  could 
hear  the  imperious  commands  of  the  German  officers 
and  the  obstinate  refusal  of  the  soldiers,  who  were  in 
revolt  against  the  task  imposed  upon  them. 

Towards  eleven  o'clock,  during  a  lull,  we  were  quietly 
relieved,  and,  feeling  a  little  more  reassured,  we  went 
back  to  Dixmude.  We  were  supplied  with  provisions 
and,  incredible  though  it  may  seem,  v/e  spent  the 
night  in  the  attic  of  a  house.  No  one  could  sleep. 
We  all  had  the  impression  that  we  should  neither  leave 
the  town,  nor  even  that  house,  alive.  The  shooting 
continued  and  we  could  hear  the  echo  of  it.  It  seemed 
very  near  and  one  would  have  thought  the  fighting 
was  taking  place  in  the  street.  Finally,  the  cannon 
began  again.  The  German  tactics  are  to  prepare 
Infantry  attacks  by  a  violent  bombardment.  In  the 
first  days  of  the  war,  this  bombardment  lasted  three 
hours  and  then  the  attack  took  place.  If  this  failed, 
the  bombardment  began  again  and  gradually  increased 
in  intensity. 


244  Brave  Belgians 

At  the  first  glimmer  of  daylight,  on  the  21st,  the 
Captain  called  us  together  under  the  porch  of  the 
house  where  we  had  slept.  Platoon  by  platoon,  we 
were  to  cross  the  Square,  at  full  speed,  where  the 
projectiles  were  dropping.  There  was  a  second  of 
hesitation,  then  the  gate  was  opened  and  the  first 
grouped  rushed  out.  At  the  same  instant,  a  shell 
burst  at  our  side.  The  officer  and  twelve  men  were 
wounded. 

I  left  the  house,  cautiously,  with  a  few  comrades, 
by  the  garden  gate  at  the  back.  We  slipped  along 
under  cover  of  the  shattered  houses  and  reached  the 
bridge,  which  was  in  a  shaky  condition.  On  this 
side  of  the  town,  trudging  along  in  the  mud  and  rain, 
there  was  a  pitiful  procession  of  women,  children,  old 
men,  and  indeed  the  whole  population  which  had 
remained  in  the  town  until  now  and  which  was  now 
escaping  in  terror. 

What  a  sigh  of  relief  we  gave  when  we  had  once 
crossed  the  bridge  and  were  safely  on  the  other  side ! 
We  went  through  the  ruined  village  of  Caeskerke, 
the  church  of  which  was  still  burning,  and  we  were 
then  in  the  country.  About  two  miles  away  from 
the  town,  in  the  fields,  the  Battalion  was  reformed. 
The  various  Companies  then  separated  and  lay  down 
amongst  the  verdure,  in  order  to  escape  being  seen  by 
the  enemy.  About  forty  of  our  men  were  missing. 
There  were  about  double  that  number  still  in  our 
Company.  A  little  warm  soup  restored  us  after  all 
the  emotions  of  the  last  few  hours.  Job  and  I  were 
unhurt,  we  had  certainly  escaped  very  narrowly.  We 
were  quite  joyful,  and  we  told  each  other  various 
details  and  exchanged  opinions.  We  almost  forgot 
the  furnace  we  had  left,  as  we  joked  together.     Then 


Dixmude  245 

the  remembrance  of  those  we  had  left  behind  saddened 
us  once  more. 

Suddenly,  some  shells  passed  over  us.  Their 
whizzing,  and  the  formidable  explosions  that  followed, 
warned  us  that  these  were  not  exactly  children's 
playthings.  The  enemy  had  no  doubt  discovered 
us,  for  the  projectiles  dropped  very  near.  We  were 
obliged  to  move  about  frequently  and  to  cross  the 
brooks  and  canals,  with  which  the  whole  district  is 
interspersed,  with  the  greatest  speed.  It  was  by  no 
means  easy  always  and  several  of  us  had  an  un- 
expected bath.  On  the  road,  behind  us,  the  "big 
blackies"  kept  bursting,  and  one  of  them  exploded 
on  an  artillery  waggon.  That  was  a  tragical  moment, 
and  we  never  saw  anything  more  of  the  waggon,  the 
driver,  or  the  horses. 

Finally,  after  a  hundred  events  of  one  kind  or 
another,  it  began  to  get  dark  once  more.  We  were 
quartered  for  the  night  in  the  village  of  Oostkerke. 
Nothing  happened  during  the  night,  but  in  the 
distance  we  could  hear  the  ceaseless  firing  of  guns  and 
cannon. 

The  following  day,  October  22nd,  we  made  trenches 
all  day  long,  covering  them  with  material  which  we 
fetched  from  the  half-deserted  village.  We  went 
there  along  the  railroad,  thus  avoiding  the  canals. 
Towards  mid-day,  an  armoured-train  arrived  by  rail, 
bringing  some  English  cannons.  At  last,  we  said  to 
ourselves,  we  were  to  have  some  heavy  Artillery, 
with  which  to  reply  to  the  Boches.  Job  and  I  were 
just  on  our  way  back  from  the  village,  carrying  a 
beam  on  our  shoulders,  and  this  prevented  our  seeing 
the  signal.  The  cannon  was  suddenly  fired,  and  we 
two  found  ourselves  on  the  ground  with  the  beam  in 


246  Brave  Belgians 

front  of  us.     We  got  up,  almost  stunned,  and  took 

ourselves  quickly  out  of  the  way. 

The  enemy  replied  promptly  and,  in  front  of  us,  just 
before  the  railway  line,  the  "No.  15  Cigars"  kept 
dropping.  Each  time  that  a  projectile  arrived,  with 
its  ominous  whizz,  we  raised  our  heads,  instinctively, 
just  to  see  where  it  burst.  Fortunately  for  us,  not 
one  of  them  reached  us.  We  spent  the  night  in  our 
shelters,  narrow  holes  in  which  we  were  obliged  to 
remain  close  together  like  sardines,  half  stifled  and 
cramped. 

On  the  23rd,  we  continued  oiu*  work  until  towards 
six  in  the  evening.  We  had  almost  finished  when 
orders  were  brought  to  us.  Our  Battalion  was  to 
return  once  more  in  the  direction  of  Dixmude.  This 
was  not  very  re-assuring,  but  we  made  our  way  back, 
passing  again  through  the  ruins  of  Caeskerke.  The 
white  tower  of  the  church  was  blazing  and  its  gleams 
lit  up  the  darkness  of  the  night.  We  had  been  walking 
for  a  long  time  and  were  now  moving  about,  back- 
wards and  forwards,  waiting  for  definite  instructions. 
They  came  at  last;  we  were  to  reinforce  the  Dixmude 
troops.  We  set  out  in  the  darkness.  A  volley  of 
shrapnels  exploded  over  our  heads.  The  men 
jumped  into  the  ditch  which  runs  along  the  road  and 
buried  themselves  as  well  as  they  could.  A  few 
minutes  later,  as  all  was  calm,  we  continued  our  way. 
When  we  were  near  Dixmude,  we  took  shelter  in  the 
houses.  We  kept  a  lookout,  with  our  arms  ready,  as 
we  formed  the  assaulting  column.  If  the  Germans 
crossed  our  lines,  we  should  have  to  use  oiu*  bayonets. 
Fortunately  they  were  too  well-behaved,  or  rather 
too  weak. 

Towards  four  in  the  morning,  we  went  to  the  relief 


Dixmude  247 

of  our  comrades.  To  reach  the  trenches,  we  had  to 
cross  the  shaky  bridge  again.  We  did  this  in  Indian 
file  and  then  kept  close  to  the  shattered  walls.  We 
went  down  the  narrow  streets  filled  with  rubbish 
and,  here  and  there,  with  the  dead.  We  were  con- 
stantly obliged  to  fling  ourselves  suddenly  down,  no 
ma:ter  where,  and  behind  no  matter  what,  as  the  big 
calibre  shrapnels  kept  coming  all  the  time.  At  a 
certain  moment  they  followed  us,  and  several  of  us 
were  seriously  wounded.  After  a  hundred  incidents, 
we  managed,  by  crawling  along,  to  cross  the  park 
and  reach  the  trenches.  Our  companions  in  mis- 
fortune went  silently  away  and  we  organised  the 
position.  Behind  us,  in  the  mysterious  darkness,  we 
kept  seeing  long  blood-red  trails,  and  these  were 
followed  by  terrible  explosions.  Our  cannons  were 
carrying  death,  in  their  turn,  to  the  enemy  lines.  I 
shall  never  forget  those  doleful  whizzings,  that  clang- 
ing sound  of  steel,  that  noise  of  air  filling  the  vacuum, 
roaring  like  a  wild  sea  and  then,  in  the  distance,  those 
formidable  explosions  which  intoxicate  one  and  make 
one  thrill  with  excitement. 

It  was  almost  dawn  on  the  24th,  and  we  were 
concealing  ourselves  as  best  we  could,  for  it  was 
impossible  to  come  out  for  anything  whatever.  Every- 
thing had  to  be  done  secretly,  as  the  German  captive 
balloons  were  overhead  watching  everything.  The 
bombardment  began  once  more  and  the  whole  earth 
shook.  Over  our  heads,  the  shells  kept  flying.  We 
heard  them  burst,  with  a  terrible  noise,  either  in 
the  park  behind  us,  or  on  the  town.  One  of  them 
entered  the  cellar  of  a  large  house  and  exploded  in 
the  midst  of  our  musicians,  who  were  hiding  there. 
Some  of  them  were  killed  and  many  of  them  were 


248  Brave  Belgians 

wounded.  As  for  us,  we  were  all  crouching  down  in 
the  trenches.  Some  of  us  were  watching  and  the 
others  talking.  No  one  could  smile  that  day,  and 
our  only  occupation  was  to  keep  watch  on  the  horizon, 
in  the  direction  of  the  enemy,  and  to  notice  where 
the  shells  exploded. 

Sometimes  we  were  aimed  at,  and  then  we  could 
do  nothing  but  collect  ourselves  together,  as  it  were, 
with  our  knapsacks  on  our  backs  and  wait  anxiously 
until  the  whizz  should  pass  over  us.  The  number 
of  projectiles  which  fell  beyond  our  positions  is 
incredible.  In  front  of  us,  we  were  faced  by  death  and 
behind  us  by  devastation.  The  ground  between  us 
and  the  wood  in  which  the  enemy  was  sheltering 
was  covered  with  dead  animals,  cows,  horses,  pigs,  and 
sheep.  At  times,  I  saw  one  of  these  animals  move. 
There  were  even  two  sheep  which  were  browsing 
tranquilly,  but  all  the  life  that  remained  was  doomed 
to  destruction.  There  was  not  the  slightest  lull  in  the 
storm  all  day  long.  At  four  in  the  afternoon,  a 
violent  Infantry  attack  began.  This  attack  was 
repulsed  and  the  bombardment  began  again  as  fresh 
as  ever.  All  night  long,  there  was  a  succession  of 
bombardments  of  the  trenches  and  of  all  the  neigh- 
bouring ground,  followed  by  Infantry  attacks.  The 
latter  were  no  longer  like  the  attacks  we  had  been  hav- 
ing. I  had  the  impression  that  there  was  a  certain 
confusion  in  the  direction  of  them,  and  that  it  was 
more  difficult  to  commence  them.  After  a  few  min- 
utes, though,  there  was  more  zeal  and  it  was  a  terrible 
struggle  all  along  the  line,  finishing  with  the  assault. 
The  attack  did  not  last  very  long  and,  almost  before 
the  end  of  it,  the  bombardment  began  again.  In  the 
execution  of  these  operations,   there  was  admirable 


Dixmudc  249 

co-ordination,  on  the  enemy's  side,  between  the  Infan- 
try and  the  Artillery  action,  and  this  co-ordination 
was  such  that  when  our  troops  no  longer  heard  the 
fall  of  shells  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  the 
trenches,  they  were  certain  of  the  Infantry  attack. 
As  soon  as  the  bombardment  ceased,  there  was  firing 
all  along  the  line  and  then,  as  the  line  approached, 
the  shouts  of  the  assault  could  always  be  heard.     As 
the  night  advanced,  the  firing  was  no  longer  regular 
but  by  fits  and  starts.     Hesitation  could  be  felt.     As 
to  the  defence,  full  latitude  was  given  to  the  Com- 
manders of  every  Company.     "As  soon  as  the  assault 
has  failed,"  the  Major  had  said,  "get  your  men  in 
hand  again  as  much  as  possible,  and  fire  in  volleys." 
Each  time  I  heard  these  volleys  I  was  glad,  for,  as 
I  said  to  myself,  the  enemy  is  beating  a  retreat  at  some 
point.     The  second  the  volleys  ceased,  the  bombard- 
ment recommenced  and  our  Infantry,  crouching  in 
the  trenches,   did  not  reply.     The  damage  was  not 
very  serious,  as  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  hit  very 
slight   trenches,   so  that  it  was  only  from  time  to 
time  that  an  enemy  shell  really  reached  them,  burying 
a  few  men  and  breaking  up  the  line.     When  this  did 
happen,  we  were  quickly  at  work  re-establishing  our 
communication,  getting  the  victims  from  under  the 
ground  and  sometimes  burying  them  a  few  yards 
behind  the  line.     It  is  impossible  to  find  words  of 
sufficient  praise  for  the  heroism  of  our  soldiers  in  such 
frightful    circumstances.     It    must    be    remembered 
that  our  poor  troops  were  facing  masses  of  Infantry 
in  overwhelming   superiority    of  number,  that  they 
were  exposed  to  a  huge  quantity  of  heavy  field  Ar- 
tillery, and  that  they  could  not  reckon  on  the  sup- 
port of  our  field    batteries,  as    these    were  held  at 


250  Brave  Belgians 

bay  by  huge  German  cannons  of  very  much  longer 
range. 

Beyond  our  Hnes,  Dixmude  was  burning.  The 
continual  bombardment  had  reduced  its  houses  to 
ashes.  The  streets  were  no  longer  practicable,  as  the 
high  pile  of  ruins  made  it  impossible  for  a  foot-passen- 
ger to  walk  through  them.  This  fact  greatly  com- 
plicated the  question  of  ammunition  supply.  From 
the  rear,  we  had  been  informed  that  the  waggons 
could  no  longer  cross  the  Yser  bridge,  nearly  a  mile 
away  from  our  positions.  Men  were  sent  constantly 
through  the  town  to  fetch  sacks  of  cartridges  and,  on 
account  of  the  great  quantity  of  ammunition  needed, 
this  going  backwards  and  forwards  was  continual. 
This  ammunition  was  brought  to  a  kind  of  stable 
near,  and  then  carried  to  our  fighting  posts  by  supply 
agents. 

On  the  25th,  as  soon  as  it  was  daylight,  the  bom- 
bardment began  again  more  violently  than  ever.  With 
my  field-glasses,  I  looked  at  the  plain.  Here  and  there 
I  could  see  enemy  patrols  and  trenches.  At  the  fringe 
of  the  wood,  just  beyond,  I  saw  troops  gliding  along 
and  I  thought  I  could  see  a  German  on  the  lookout 
behind  the  chimney  of  a  house.  At  a  certain  moment, 
a  battery  of  the  enemy  Light  Artillery  took  position 
about  1500  yards  away  from  us.  It  began  firing  and 
its  projectiles  almost  grazed  us.  We  informed  our 
Artillery,  which  answered  feebly.  We  were  furious  at 
this,  for  we  did  not  know  that  our  gunners  were  short 
of  ammunition.  We  had  lost  our  Antwerp  stores 
and  the  French  supply  was  not  yet  organised.^     In 

'  The  Artillery  ammunition  began  to  be  scarce  a  few  days  later. 
Towards  the  25th  it  was  chiefly  the  congested  traffic  of  the 
railroads  wliich  interfered  with  the  supply. 


Dixmudc  251 

spite  of  all  this,  and  with  our  poor  resources,  we  resisted 
these  mass  attacks  prepared  by  a  diabolical  Artillery. 
On  that  day,  I  still  had  courage  enough  to  write  a  few 
words  in  my  note  book,  whilst  Dixmude  was  crumbling 
away  under  the  210  and  280  shells.  Everything  trem- 
bled, the  heavens,  the  earth  and — the  men.  The 
Tauhes  were  hovering  over  us  constantly.  They  were 
trying  to  discover  our  positions,  which  they  indicated 
by  dropping  white  fuses.  A  shower  of  shrapnels  and 
shells  informed  us  of  the  result  of  this  information. 

Our  soldiers  presently  began  to  complain.  They 
had  nothing  to  smoke,  and  some  of  them  began  to  cut 
the  handles  of  their  knapsacks  into  shreds.  Several 
of  them  were  ill  from  this  privation  and  among  these 
was  our  Lieutenant,  the  only  one  left  among  us.  Life 
now  was  a  martyrdom.  After  all  our  overwork  and 
fatigue,  we  had  nothing  with  which  to  sustain  our- 
selves, and  we  felt  our  strength  giving  way.  We  could 
not  get  any  more  provisions  and  we  had  no  more 
warm  food,  as  our  kitchen  had  been  destroyed  at  Di.x- 
mude  by  the  shells. 

The  enemy  was  approaching  and  we  wondered 
whether  we  were  going  to  be  reHeved  or  reinforced. 
Alas,  no !  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  on  watch- 
ing, with  our  bayonets  ready,  whilst  the  "  big  blackies  " 
fell  round  us  all  the  time.  Quite  near  to  us,  on  the 
Keyem  road  and  in  the  park,  huge  trees  were  mown 
clean  down  and  enormous  craters,  with  charred  edges, 
hollowed  by  these  murderous  engines  of  warfare. 
Sometimes  fragments  of  the  shells  fell  at  our  feet,  or 
passed  over  our  shelter  with  a  whizz,  burying  them- 
selves deeply  in  the  ground.  Certain  projectiles 
entered  the  ground  without  bursting, xausing  us  great 
anxiety.     Our  flasks  had  long  been  empty  and  we 


252  Brave  Belgians 

were  literally  dying  of  thirst.  Our  Commander  asked 
if  a  few  men  would  volunteer  to  fetch  some  wine  from 
the  town.  I  went  with  three  or  four  comrades. 
Dixmude  was  a  lamentable  sight.  The  streets  were  all 
torn  up  and  filled  with  ruins  and  rubbish  of  all  kinds. 
The  houses  were  all  destroyed  and  as  empty  as  egg- 
shells. What  was  underneath  all  that  ?  Probably,  both 
living  and  dead,  riches  and  art-treasures.  I  saw  the 
body  of  a  poor  mother,  with  haggard  eyes  and  clenched 
teeth.  She  seemed  to  me  like  a  reproach  to  the 
Germans  for  their  odious  war.  Near  her  was  a 
young  child,  which  looked  as  though  it  were  sleeping. 
What  a  number  of  wrecked  houses!  Fiirniture, 
carpets,  and  curtains  strewed  the  ground,  all  this 
saccaged  by  man  returned  to  a  savage  state.  If  the 
enemy  should  take  the  unfortunate  city,  I  thought, 
he  will  only  have  conquered  ruins.  At  the  relief 
station,  I  found  my  Lieutenant  stretched  out  on  the 
ground  between  two  Boches.  One  of  these  was 
groaning  all  the  time,  the  other  one  was  a  very  young 
man,  scarcely  seventeen,  I  should  think.  To  see  my 
Lieutenant  near  these  two  gave  me  a  pang. 

We  managed  to  get  some  wine  and  then  returned 
to  the  trench.  The  distribution  of  this  precious 
liquid  caused  our  men  a  little  joy  and  made  them  more 
hopeful.  Each  of  them  was  ready  to  go  to  work 
again  with  fresh  energy.  A  little  later,  my  friend 
Job  went  with  a  few  other  men  to  get  some  more 
wine  and  some  cartridges.  They  were  less  lucky 
than  we  were,  for  one  of  them  had  both  legs  broken. 
Another  one  had  the  good  luck  to  escape  uninjured, 
although  the  bottle  he  was  holding  was  smashed  by  a 
bullet. 

When  the  darkness  came  on  again,  things  looked 


Dixmude  253 

very  threatening.  After  sprinkling  our  trenches  with 
projeetiles  of  every  cahbre,  the  German  Artillery 
bombarded  the  town,  in  order  to  prevent  any  reserves 
from  coming  to  our  relief.  The  enemy  then  came  out 
from  a  wood  and  moved  a  little  to  our  right,  in  the 
direction  of  the  cemetery,  where  our  2nd  Battalion 
was  lying  in  wait.  The  shells  fell  there  in  quantities, 
damaging  the  tombs  and  causing  a  fearful  scene. 
The  vaults  and  tombs  opened  under  the  fire  and 
coffins  were  exposed  to  view.  When  our  courageous 
soldiers  fell,  in  the  midst  of  this  furnace,  we  saw  what 
will  probably  never  be  seen  again,  the  living  buried 
alive  and  the  dead  brought  out  of  their  graves.  .  .  . 
At  daybreak,  on  the  25th  of  October,  the  Germans, 
in  a  compact  mass,  came  out  of  a  small  wood  and 
moved  rapidly,  with  heads  lowered,  marching  in 
column,  four  abreast,  towards  a  canal  which  sepa- 
rated them  from  us  and  which  was  crossed  by  only  one 
bridge.  By  means  of  a  little  ditch  along  the  bank, 
they  were  able  to  deploy  as  sharp-shooters  and,  in 
this  way,  they  attempted  to  cross  the  bridge.  Our 
men  were  watching  though,  and  sprinkled  the  passage 
with  shot,  which  meant  death  to  the  enemy.  The 
bridge  was  soon  obstructed  and  the  dead  men  were 
piled  up  one  on  the  top  of  the  other.  The  heaps  of 
dead  were  as  high  as  a  man.  In  spite  of  this,  these 
loathsome  beasts,  for  they  are  no  longer  human 
beings,  crawled  up  behind  their  brothers-in-arms, 
climbed  up  on  to  the  top  of  the  dead  men  and  .  .  . 
fell  down  from  there,  under  the  fire  of  our  machine- 
guns.  The  more  lucky  ones,  those  who  were  not 
hit,  fell  into  the  ditch  and,  getting  up  again,  rushed 
on  to  the  assault  with  hoarse  cries,  only  to  be  killed 
as  they  came  nearer  to  us.     They  were  in  such  quanti- 


254  Brave  Belgians 

ties  though,  and  they  came  on  so  quickly,  that  we 
could  not  bring  them  all  down  and  some  of  them 
crossed  to  the  right  of  us.  Mad  with  excitement  and 
eager  for  carnage,  three  or  four  hundred  Boches  crossed 
our  line  and  rushed  on  into  Dixmude,  uttering  wild 
beast  cries  and  hoping  to  cause  a  panic  amongst  us. 
The  wild  band  was  stopped  at  the  Yser  bridge  by 
the  fire  of  our  machine-guns.  Several  fell  under  the 
murderous  storm  and  rolled  into  the  canal ;  the  others 
wheeled  round  and  divided  into  several  detachments. 
In  the  town  itself,  there  was  now  a  terrible  chase,  and 
a  sanguinary  hand-to-hand  struggle  between  the 
Boches  and  us.  We  were  able  to  take  some  of  them 
prisoners  though.  Hidden  in  the  cellars,  as  soon  as 
they  caught  sight  of  our  patrols,  they  held  up  their 
hands  in  fear  and  trembling,  and  begged  for  mercy. 
Those  who  offered  the  least  resistance  were  shot  down. 
Soon  after,  our  advance  sentinels  captured  some  of  the 
enemy  who  had  escaped  the  massacre.  They  were 
crawling  along  the  canal  side,  hoping  to  get  back 
to  their  lines.  These  were  the  last  of  the  band.  In 
spite  of  all  their  efforts,  the  Germans  had  not  crossed 
the  Yser,  nor  broken  our  resistance.  The  Belgians 
and  the  French  Fusiliers  were  the  conquerors.  The 
entrances  to  our  trenches  were  strewn  with  enemy 
equipment  and  arms,  and  a  few  yards  in  front  of  us 
lay  dead  bodies  pele-mele.  Our  soldiers  searched 
these  bodies  and  handed  over  a  lot  of  things  to  the 
chiefs.  Certain  sums  of  money  and  jewellery  and 
watches  found  on  the  enemy  were  given  back  to  us, 
as  we  frequently  had  the  proof  that  these  objects 
had  been  taken  from  the  Belgians. 

Once  more  night  came  on,  putting  an  end  to  the 
terrible  work  of  the  day.     Our  sentinels,  in  absolute 


Dixmude 


-\-^5 


silence,  went  back  to  their  outposts,  and  we  waited 
for  the  comrades  who  were  to  replace  us  in  the  trenches. 
Our  food  was  all  gone  and  nothing  more  to  eat  or 
drink  was  brought  to  us.  We  began  to  get  very 
anxious.  At  eleven  o'clock,  the  Senegalese  came  to 
take  possession  of  our  trenches.  These  brave  soldiers 
came  so  quietly  that  they  took  us  almost  by  surprise. 
They  are  tall,  strong  fellows,  and  in  the  dusk  only 
their  eyes  and  teeth  can  be  seen  shining  in  contrast 
to  their  black  skin.  We  were  glad  to  have  them  with 
us.  They  had  scarcely  been  there  half  an  hour, 
when  the  enemy  attacked  them,  but  without  any 
success.  The  Senegalese  rushed  forward  to  meet  the 
enemy,  whom  they  repulsed  with  their  bayonets  and 
knives.  As  to  us,  glad  to  be  free  for  a  time,  we  marched 
along  with  big  strides  in  spite  of  our  fatigue.  There 
was  a  death-like  silence  in  Dixmude.  The  stretcher- 
bearers,  taking  away  the  wounded,  were  all  that 
gave  to  these  smoking  ruins  a  little  life.  We  crossed 
the  shaky  bridge  over  the  Yser  once  more  and  moved 
on,  after  giving  a  last  sad  look  at  the  huge  pile  of 
debris,  with  its  dead,  which  was  all  that  was  left  of  the 
town. 

On  the  road,  our  Major  told  us  that  we  were  going 
to  have  a  rest,  that  our  banner  had  just  been  decorated 
with  the  "Order  of  Leopold,"  and  that  the  name  of 
"Dixmude"  was  to  be  embroidered  on  it  in  gold 
letters. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
Eight  Days  in  Dixmude 

Extracts  from  the  Diary  of  an  Artillery  Observer,  by 
F.  DE  Wilde  of  Brigade  B  (Formerly  i2th  Brigade) 

October  ig,  JQ14.  We  have  been  at  Nieucapelle 
for  the  last  three  days.  The  war  is  getting  pictur- 
esque. Blue  or  red  burnous  are  now  to  be  seen  as  the 
army  passes  along.  The  horses  are  small  and  their 
riders  perched  on  the  saddle  like  monkeys.  The 
whole  tribe  must  have  set  out  together,  as  there  are 
several  generations,  from  youths  to  old  men  with 
faces  like  parchment. 

At  eight  o'clock,  we  had  been  ordered  to  assemble 
at  Oudecapelle.  We  found  the  horde  of  goumiers 
there,  giving  a  touch  of  Orientalism  to  the  melancholy 
Flemish  landscape.  Our  men  fraternised  with  them, 
and  details  about  Arab  life  were  soon  forthcoming. 

These  Bedouins  were  accustomed  to  be  paid  three 
francs  a  day  and  to  have  the  right  of  pillaging  in  the 
enemy's  country.  They  were  constantly  asking, 
after  crossing  a  field,  if  they  were  not  yet  in  Germany. 
Armed  with  big  knives,  they  kept  brandishing  them 
with  the  gesture  of  cutting  off  an  enemy's  head,  at  the 
same  time  grinning  in  a  way  that  showed  their 
white  teeth.  They  have  a  great  partiality,  too,  for 
ears.     Among  them  was  a  tall  negro,  who  kept  repeat- 

256 


Eight  Days  in  Dixmudc  257 

ing  in  very  bad  French:  "Francise,  Bclgise,  AnKlise, 
all  comrades!"  Thereupon  he  would  hold  out  a 
huge  hand  and  pretend  to  be  drawing  his  gloves  on, 
rather  a  suggestive  way  of  asking  for  some,  perhaps. 
This  country  is  by  no  means  an  easy  one  for  them, 
cut  up,  as  it  is  by  wide,  muddy  ditches,  in  which  their 
horses  have  to  wallow  breast  high.  In  the  distance, 
could  be  heard  the  English  fleet,  cannonading  the 
coast  and  the  German  columns  coming  from  Ostend. 
The  French  Marine  Fusiliers,  together  with  the 
Belgian  5th  Division,  went  to  Beerst.  A  violent 
combat  was  engaged  there.  Beerst  was  taken, 
lost,  and  then  retaken  by  the  Fusiliers.  German 
reinforcements,  coming  from  Roulers,  compelled 
all  the  troops  to  beat  a  retreat.  It  was  decided  that 
we  should  defend  the  bridge-head  at  Dixmudc.  Our 
Brigade  and  the  French  Marine  Fusiliers  were  en- 
trusted with  this.  We  were  placed  under  the  com- 
mand of  Admiral  Ronarc'h.  There  was  a  very 
frugal  board  at  the  Admiral's  Headquarters.  We 
managed  to  find  a  biscuit  and  a  tin  of  pressed  meat 
and,  what  was  better  still,  we  found — a  mattress. 

October  20th.  An  attack  on  the  bridge-head  is 
imminent.  We  have  received  orders  to  take  position 
at  Kapelhoeck  with  our  three  batteries,  the  40th, 
41st,  and  42nd.  A  violent  and  ceaseless  cannonading 
was  to  be  heard  from  early  morning.  Shrapnels, 
hidden  in  fleecy  clouds,  and  mine-shells,  with  a  clang- 
ing noise  and  black  smoke,  kept  falling  on  Dixmudc 
and  bursting  with  a  deafening  noise. 

We  were  camping  in  a  deserted  farm.  The  dogs 
had  lost  their  voices  and  the  cattle  were  wandering 
about  at  their  own  will.     At  eleven  o'clock,  the  40th 


258  Brave  Belgians 

Battery,  under  Commander  Aerts,  was  sent  to  the 
north  of  Dixmude,  near  the  Keiserhoek  Mill,  and  the 
41st,  under  Commander  Huet,  towards  Eassen. 

At  noon,  just  as  some  atrociously  salt  pork  was 
simmering  on  the  fire,  we  were  sent  with  the  42nd 
battery,  under  Commander  Schouten,  to  take  up  our 
position  at  Keiserhoek,  near  the  40th,  in  order  to 
support  the  12th  Line  Regiment.  Major  Hellebaut, 
who  commanded  the  Artillery  of  Brigade  B.,  Hazard, 
a  pupil  of  the  Military  School,  a  Brigadier  Trtmipeter, 
and  I  were  in  front.  We  trotted  at  a  good  rate  over 
the  paved  road  and,  without  uttering  a  word,  crossed 
the  bridge,  and  went  along  the  streets  leading  to  the 
Square.  A  few  Infantry  Companies,  in  line  by  the 
houses,  watched  us  in  bewilderment. 

On  arriving  at  West  Street,  we  halted  and  dis- 
mounted in  front  of  the  house  of  the  Notary,  M. 
Baert.  This  house  was  empty.  We  left  our  horses 
in  charge  of  the  Tnmipeter  and  continued  our  way 
on  foot,  through  Dixmude,  towards  Keiserhoek. 
The  town  was  awful  to  behold;  the  streets  were 
absolutely  deserted  and  full  of  debris  of  all  kinds 
and  of  shell-holes.  The  houses  were  shattered,  the 
walls  cracked,  the  tiles  in  fragments,  and  the  window- 
panes  broken.  In  the  street  leading  to  Keyem,  we 
noticed  enormous  splashes  of  blood.  It  was  no 
use  trying  to  find  which  side  of  the  street  was  more 
sheltered.  We  were  walking  in  the  very  centre 
of  the  firing  line.  ^ 

Suddenly,  on  a  window  ledge,  we  caught  sight  of 
Max,  a  young  Malines  collie,  which  our  soldiers  had 
adopted  at  Boom  and  which  had  gone  with  us  on  one 

'  According  to  information  taken  from  an  account  by  Major 
Hellebaut. 


Eight  Days  in  Dixmudc  259 

waggon  or  another  everywhere.  The  poor  dog  was 
trembhng  now  with  fear.  We  took  him  away  with 
us  and  continued  our  way.  A  waggon  came  back 
with  half  of  its  team.  The  whole  road  was  being 
swept  with  shrapnels  and  it  was  impossible  to  keep 
straight  on.  We  turned  to  the  right  by  the  Handzacm 
canal  and  endeavoured  to  find  Lieutenant-Colonel 
van  RoUeghem,  who  was  in  command  of  the  I2th  Line 
Regiment.  Thanks  to  the  trees  along  the  canal 
bank,  we  reached  the  trenches.  The  Colonel  was  not 
there.  We  were  advised  to  try  the  other  side  of  the 
canal.  A  boat  was  at  hand  and  we  crossed,  under 
the  sharp  whizzing  of  shrapnels.  The  Colonel  was 
at  the  extreme  end  of  the  winding  line  of  the  Blood 
Putteken  trenches.  It  was  impossible  to  employ  the 
42nd  Battery  there.  The  40th,  which  had  been  able 
to  put  only  two  of  its  cannons  on  the  battery  in  an 
orchard  to  our  right,  had  not  been  able  to  stay  at 
Keiserhoek.'  It  had  two  of  its  horses  killed  and 
would  have  lost  a  cannon  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
self-sacrifice  of  Quartermaster  Vivier.  The  trenches 
were  being  shelled.  Thanks  to  wrong  observation, 
the  German  firing  was  concentrated  on  a  line  of  wil- 
lows, the  indistinct  outline  of  which  appeared  to  be  a 
hundred  yards  away  from  the  retrenchments.  Orders 
were  given  to  us  to  return  to  Kapelhoek.  We  had 
to  go  once  more  into  the  Dixmudc  hell.  Just  as  we 
reached  the  big  Square,  a  big  shell  of  21  centimetres 
fell  twenty  yards  away,  at  the  corner  of  West  Street, 
fining  the  whole  street  with  opaque  grey  smoke. 
We  ran  through  this  to  the  middle  of  a  heap  of  stones, 
bricks,  and  beams.     Another  projectile  entered  by  the 

'  This  information  was  obtained  from  an  account  given  by 
Artillery  Major  Hellebaut. 


26o  Brave  Belgians 

air-hole  of  a  house  and  killed  the  band  of  the  I2th 
Line  Regiment  which  had  taken  refuge  in  a  cellar. 
In  the  meantime,  the  41st  Battery,  returning  from 
Eessen,  joined  us  and  the  three  batteries  crossed  the 
bridge  over  the  Yser,  arriving  at  a  trot  at  Kapelhoek. 
They  opened  a  violent  fire  on  the  ground  to  the  south 
of  the  cemetery,  and  the  Boches  were  obliged  to  clear 
out.  That  evening  we  entered  a  farmhouse,  and 
found  five  beds  in  a  state  which  proved  that  there 
had  been  a  hasty  flight  from  there.  We  jumped  into 
the  beds  just  as  we  were.  There  was  a  deafening 
noise  of  Artillery  and  the  sharp  crack  of  guns. 

All  this  was  intermittent  at  first,  but  it  increased 
until  it  became  incessant.  The  machine-guns  con- 
tinued all  the  time.  A  terrified  soldier  came  in  and 
informed  us  that  there  was  an  attack  on  the  town. 
All  night  we  heard  the  tumult  of  the  fight,  the  roaring 
of  the  cannon,  the  whizzing  of  balls,  and  a  wild 
clamour. 

October  21st.  At  da^'break,  the  firing  diminished 
and  the  Germans  were  falling  back.  Omt  troops  had 
been  superb  and  had  repelled  three  assaults.  A 
band  of  prisoners  passed  by.  Nearly  all  of  them 
were  young  and  had  come  from  Brussels.  They 
had  not  fought  before.  According  to  them,  many  of 
their  officers  had  been  killed  the  previous  day.  They 
had  been  replaced  by  officers  they  did  not  know, 
taken  from  the  central  army. 

A  German  officer  with  dum-dum  balls  was  arrested. 
When  he  was  questioned,  he  declared  that  these  balls 
did  not  belong  to  him.  As  he  became  arrogant,  he 
was  made  to  turn,  round.  He  took  advantage  of 
the  first  moment  of  inattention  for  trying  to  escape. 
He  was  shot  down  at  a  distance  of  150  metres.     His 


Eight  Days  in  Dixmude         261 

revolver  was  loaded  with  these  same  dum-dum  balls, 
and  he  was  buried  at  once.  We  then  fired  on  Vladsloo 
and  on  Eessen.  We  did  not  have  to  wait  long  for  the 
reply  and  a  few  of  our  men  were  wounded. 

The  morning  was  relatively  calm,  but  towards  one 
o'clock,  the  battle  began  again  as  fiercely  as  the  day 
before.  This  time  the  enemy  aimed  at  the  roads 
by  which  we  might  retreat.  The  German  firing  was 
more  exact  now.  A  quantity  of  vehicles  were  sta- 
tioned on  the  Oudecapelle  road.  At  the  first  shells, 
they  started  off  at  a  trot  for  shelter.  Three  waggons 
were  hit  and  the  horses  fell  down.  The  f6te  began 
once  more  and  Dixmude  was  again  bombarded  vio- 
lently. A  shell  set  fire  to  the  Coll^giale  and  the  tower 
was  soon  a  brazier.  Through  the  capricious  flames 
we  could  see  an  arch  for  an  instant,  and  then  the  clock 
tower  foundered  in  an  apotheosis.  It  began  to  get 
dusk  and  five  fires  could  now  be  seen  against  the 
horizon.  Dixmude  burst  into  flames  here  and  there. 
A  roof  flamed  up  and  threw  a  vivid  brilliant  gleam 
over  the  open-work  gables.  The  Germans  were 
firing  continually  and  the  bursting  of  their  projectiles 
made  a  cloud  of  sparks.  It  was  dismal  and  at  the  same 
time  imposing. 

The  firing  continued  and  then,  in  a  moment's  lull, 
which  seemed  strange  in  the  midst  of  the  infernal 
noise,  we  heard  the  charge  being  sounded.  This 
was  followed  by  an  immense  and  ferocious  clamour 
which  was  answered  by  an  intense  firing.  Suddenly, 
everything  was  quiet  and  this  sudden  silence  in  the 
midst  of  the  darkness  was  most  impressive.  We 
wondered  whether  the  enemy  had  succeeded  or  been 
repulsed.  The  silence  continued.  Then  the  firing 
began  again,  more  intense  still  and  in  the  same  spot. 


262  Brave  Belgians 

We  breathed  freely,  for  the  line  had  evidently  not 
been  forced.  The  anguish  which  we  had  all  felt  was 
over.  It  had  been  atrocious,  that  anguish  of  listening 
and  seeing  nothing,  knowing  nothing  for  certain, 
except  that  our  lives  and  the  lives  of  so  many  others 
were  at  stake,  in  the  midst  of  the  mysterious  darkness. 
We  kept  all  our  positions.  For  three  whole  days  it  was 
one  incessant  fight.  The  German  Infantry  was  a 
few  hundred  yards  away  from  ours,  and  on  the  Yser, 
to  the  north  of  Dixmude,  we  were  each  holding  one  of 
the  banks  of  the  river.  For  four  nights  we  had 
taken  what  rest  we  could,  just  as  we  were,  and  we  had 
no  notion  of  time.  We  ate  when  we  could ;  sometimes 
the  meals  were  good  and  frequently  bad. 

October  22nd.  With  the  dawn  the  firing  slackened. 
The  Germans  were  falling  back  and  we  opened  a 
violent  firing  in  the  various  directions  of  their  retreat. 
Then  there  was  silence  again.  We  wondered  whether 
they  had  changed  their  points  of  attack.  Towards 
ten  o'clock,  an  energetic  cannonading  began  towards 
the  right.  Our  Cavalry  Divisions  were  on  that  side 
and  the  English  were  making  their  way  vigorously  in 
the  same  direction.  At  eleven  o'clock,  the  battle  began 
again.  The  big  calibre  abounded  on  the  German  side. 
They  showered  their  15  and  21  on  us  in  all  directions. 
Nothing  was  spared.  The  ground  was  ploughed  up 
with  a  frightful  noise  and  the  fields  studded  with 
enormous  craters.  Up  to  the  present,  there  had  been 
more  noise  than  damage.  During  the  afternoon  and 
the  evening,  the  Boches  attempted  several  more 
attacks,  but  these  all  failed.  We  fired  with  great 
rapidity  and  our  storms  did  a  great  deal  of  damage 
and  cut  short  their  attempts.  Some  of  the  prisoners 
told  us  that  we  had  destroyed  one  Battalion  and 


Eight  Days  in  Dixmudc  263 

part  of  the  Cavalry,  which  had  l)een  taking  refuj^e 
at  the  Castle  to  the  south  of  Dixmude.  The  French 
army  had  asked  us  to  hold  out  two  days  on  the  Yscr, 
and  our  troops  had  resisted  eight  days,  and  had  been 
attacked  during  six  days  with  terrific  stubbornness. 

October  23rd,  24th,  and  25th.  The  Infantry  attacks 
were  getting  fewer  and  farther  between.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  Artillery  was  working  hard.  The  Germans 
have  a  fearful  proportion  of  Artillery  of  all  calibres, 
and  it  is  their  cannon  that  does  the  most  work. 

The  struggle  continued  like  the  day  before  and  the 
day  before  that.  It  was  the  Battle  of  the  Aisne  con- 
tinuing. The  adversaries  had  retrenched  themselves, 
and  more  particularly  before  Woumen.  The  Boches 
had  piled  up  their  embankments  here.  As  I  was  out 
on  observation  every  day,  along  the  banks  of  the 
Yser,  I  could  see  their  trenches  spring  out  of  the  earth 
as  though  by  magic,  grow  longer  and  become  inter- 
sected with  each  other.  They  work  with  an  ease  and 
activity  that  is  remarkable.  In  a  place  where  there 
was  nothing  at  night,  a  close  network  of  trenches  is 
to  be  seen  the  following  day,  together  with  a  series 
of  junctions  and  communication  trenches.  We  fired 
violently,  and  overturned  their  mole-heaps,  but  a 
few  minutes  later  we  could  see  the  rapid  movement 
of  earth  turned  over,  and  hear  the  noise  of  the 
iron  spades,  which  would  soon  restore  the  damaged 
places. 

In  the  distance,  a  few  patrols  were  moving  about ;  a 
battery  was  passing  by  at  a  trot  in  a  sheltered  road. 
In  the  beet-root  fields,  to  the  south  of  Dixmude,  could 
be  seen  long,  grey  figures  lying  in  front  of  the  German 
retrenchments.  This  was  a  neutral  zone,  withm 
which  no  one  could  enter.     All  this  was  the  ransom  of 


264  Brave  Belgians 

the  battles  of  the  previous  day,  these  were  the  dead 
bodies  that  could  not  be  brought  in. 

On  the  evening  of  the  23rd,  we  heard  groans  and 
shouts  in  bad  Frencli  coming  from  the  long  grasses  in 
the  fields.  This  was  the  first  time  I  had  heard 
wounded  men  shouting.  A  few  voices  could  be 
heard  above  the  rest:  "Help!  Help!  Frencli  .  .  . 
wounded!" 

We  wondered  what  this  fresh  ruse  was,  for  ruse  it 
certainly  was,  and  a  very  palpable  one.  We  did  not 
stir,  of  course,  and  all  was  soon  quiet  again.  The 
Artillery  was  not  long  quiet  though,  and  the  quantity 
of  ammunition  it  consumed  was  considerable.  The 
Germans  bombard  with  unprecedented  energy.  The 
small  calibre  had  almost  disappeared  and  only 
the  heavy  guns  were  now  doing  their  part.  Mine-shells 
exploded  with  a  noise  like  thunder.  It  was  sheer  mad- 
ness, for  the  Boches  were  evidently  firing  without  much 
observation,  as,  after  placing  the  batteries,  instead 
of  firing  in  a  way  to  destroy  everything,  they  changed 
their  target,  fired  at  longer  or  shorter  range,  peppering 
the  whole  district,  but  not  doing  any  great  damage. 
When  they  have  an  idea  though,  they  persist  in  it, 
so  that  when  their  idea  was  to  attack  one  special 
point,  they  went  on  shooting  with  admirable  persist- 
ency— even  when  there  was  nothing  at  the  point  at 
which  they  were  aiming.  A  shell  has  just  burst 
under  one  of  our  windows,  breaking  the  panes  and 
staining  the  Adjutant  Major's  papers  with  mud. 
Our  roof  is  like  a  sieve  at  present.  One  or  other 
of  us  is  all  the  time  at  the  telephone.  The  wires  are 
broken  constantly  by  the  shells.  The  telephonists 
run  along  and  the  communication  is  set  up  again. 
Night  and  day,  we  hear  the  strident  ring  of  the  tele- 


Eight  Days  in  Dixmudc  265 

phone  bell.     Some  information  arrives,  or  an  order  is 
given,  one  of  the  officers  gets  up,  rushes  ofl  to  the 
battery — and  a  telephonic  message  orders  us  to  stop 
firing  for  the  moment.     When  there  is  an  important 
piece  of  information,  everyone  starts  off.     The  dry, 
hoarse  voice  of  our  75  mingles  hurriedly  with  the  dull 
rumblings  in  the  distance,  and  with  the  formidable 
explosions  of  the  projectiles  that  arrive.     After  this, 
all  who  have  luck  go  to  rest  again,  the  privileged 
ones  in  any  beds  that  are  free,  and  the  others  on  straw 
that  is  spread  each  night  in  the  kitchen.     For  a  whole 
week  we  have  been  installed  on  this  farm.     We  have 
managed  to  find  a  few  vegetables  for  our  table,  but 
meat  is  rare.     The  first  day,  we  feasted  on  fowl,  but 
now  there  are  no  more  fowl.     Then  we  had  a  pig 
killed.     To-day,    we    have    some    tinned    meat;    to- 
morrow, I  do  not  know  what  we  shall  have.     Our 
greatest  privation  is  the  scarcity  of  cigarettes.      We 
are  reduced  to  making  shapeless  cigarettes  with  bad 
pipe  tobacco.     There  is  literally  nothing  to  be  had 
here.     The  water  is  so  salty  that  we  drink  only  coffee. 
Fortunately  there  is  no  shortage  of  milk.     Our  men 
go,  in  the  early  morning,  and  milk  the  wandering 
cattle  which  they  find  enjoying  themselves  in  the  beet- 
root fields.     Not  a  single  dog  barks.     They  all  go 
creeping  along  close  to  the  buildings,  with  their  tails 
between  their  legs,  and  at  the  first  whizz  of  a  shell 
they  jump  down  wildly  into  any  hole  they  happen 
to  find.     The  projectiles  have  made  a  hecatomb  of 
cattle    on    every    side.     All    the    famous    meadows 
round    Dixmude    and   Veurne-Ambacht    are    strewn 
with  dead  cows,  lying  on  their  back  with  their  feet  in 
the  air.     The  game  is  all  terrified.     The  cannonading 
keeps  on  all  the  time:  the  shooting  is  intermittent 


266  Brave  Belgians 

during  the  day  and  almost  incessant  during  the  night. 
Whenever  there  is  a  lull,  the  prolonged  roar  of  the 
Ypres  cannon  in  the  distance  is  deafening.  All  this 
noise  gets  on  our  nerves,  which  are  already  at  full 
tension. 

October  26th.  Dixmude,  Kapelhoek.  At  six  in  the 
morning,  we  were  suddenly  roused  by  a  firing  almost 
in  our  ears.  The  bullets  lodged  in  our  walls.  It  was 
evidently  an  alert.  A  Commander  came  back  to  us 
calhng  out:  "The  Germans  are  400  yards  away!" 
We  got  up  in  haste,  amazed  at  what  we  heard.  On 
looking  out,  we  were  greeted  by  a  hailstorm  of  bullets. 
They  seemed  to  come  from  all  sides  at  once,  so  that 
it  seemed  as  though  we  were  surrounded.  We  took 
counsel  together  quickly. 

"To  the  guns,"  was  the  order  "and  shrapnel  fire 
at  short  distance!  " 

It  was  impossible  to  get  to  the  batteries.  The 
morning  mist  was  hanging  over  everything.  We 
could  see  only  indistinct  figures  moving  about.  There 
was  a  moment's  lull  in  the  firing  and  our  men  rushed 
to  the  guns.  The  zeal  of  one  of  our  gunners  was  for- 
tunately calmed  in  time.  He  was  just  about  to  aim 
at  one  of  our  own  patrols. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?  Where  are  they? 
What  is  the  matter?"  were  the  questions  everyone 
was  asking. 

About  fifty  Germans  had  crossed  the  Yser  and 
search  was  being  made  for  them.  I  rushed  off  to 
Headquarters  to  give  this  information  and  to  bring 
help.  I  met  a  patrol  of  Dragoons,  another  of  Fusi- 
Hers,  and  a  third  of  Carabineers.  The  alarm  had  been 
given. 

At  the  Admiral's  Headquarters,  everyone  was  up 


Eight  Days  in  Dixmude  267 

and  discussing  the  incident.  An  enemy  detachment 
had  crossed  the  river  and  caused  a  panic,  thanks  to 
its  firing,  but  at  daybreak  the  troops  had  pulled  them- 
selves together,  the  positions  were  reoccupied,  and  the 
hunt  was  taking  place.  I  went  out  towards  Dixmude 
and,  in  a  ditch,  I  saw  two  Germans  lying  face  down- 
wards in  the  mud.  On  the  other  side  the  road  were 
two  bluejackets,  with  their  sweaters  unbuttoned  and 
the  blood  flowing  freely.  A  girl,  half  wild  with  anxiety, 
rushed  across  to  me.  She  had  been  helping  an  old 
woman  along.  "Oh,  sir,  my  mother  is  dying;  some- 
thing to  put  her  on,  so  that  she  can  be  carried ! "  I  could 
only  point  to  the  Headquarters.  Just  then  a  stretcher 
passed  by,  carried  by  four  of  the  Fusiliers.  On  it 
was  the  dead  body  of  Commander  Jeanniot.  His 
face  was  covered  with  a  handkerchief,  but  his  crushed 
arm  was  hanging  down  and  he  had  a  fearful  wound 
in  his  thigh.  There  were  dead  bodies  heaped  up  on 
the  Dixmude  bridge.  One  of  them  was  still  hanging 
on  to  the  railings,  which  he  had  clutched  in  his  death- 
agony.  All  of  them  had  quantities  of  wounds,  holes 
in  their  breasts,  and  eyes  wide  open,  scared  by  the 
frightful  sights  they  had  seen.  Beyond  the  bridge 
were  heaps  of  dead  bodies,  lying  pele-mele  with  their 
stiff  limbs  intermingled  and  their  coagulated  blood 
on  the  pavement. 

Still  farther  on  were  more  dead  bodies.  A  few 
Belgians  were  also  sleeping  their  last  sleep  on  the 
foot-path.  Patrols  were  going  to  and  fro,  searching 
houses,  their  weapons  in  their  hands  and  their  eyes 
on  the  lookout  for  everything.  As  I  went  farther 
into  Dixmude,  I  found  heaps  of  ruins,  charred  walls, 
blackened  stumps,  broken  windows.  In  one  house, 
the  whole  facade  had  given  way  and  the  ceilings  had 


268  Brave  Belgians 

remained.  It  looked  like  a  piece  of  stage  scenery. 
Strangely  enough,  too,  one  house  stood  entirely  un- 
scathed. The  Square  was  completely  torn  up  and 
there  were  rows  of  craters  bordered  by  paving  stones. 

The  Council  House  could  still  boast  the  skeleton 
of  its  clock  tower  and  the  stained  glass  was  still 
dropping  from  its  window  frames.  The  headless 
tower  and  the  four  walls  were  all  that  remained  stand- 
ing of  the  Collegiale  building. 

On  my  return,  I  met  two  stretchers,  on  one  of  which 
was  an  old  German  officer  who  had  been  mortally 
wounded,  and  on  the  other  an  immense  fellow  with 
square  shoulders,  wearing  enormous  spectacles  with 
horn  rims.  The  men  could  scarcely  carry  him,  as  he 
was  so  heavy.  On  returning  to  the  battery,  I  learnt 
that  two  prisoners  had  been  taken.  I  went  to  see  the 
place  where  the  last  struggle  had  taken  place.  About 
fifteen  bodies  were  lying  on  the  muddy  ground,  which 
was  all  bespattered  with  blood.  Four  of  the  men  were 
still  living.  The  Major  in  command  was  lying  on  his 
back,  dead,  with  his  mouth  open  and  his  skull  pierced. 
A  Lieutenant  had  fallen  sideways  with  his  arm  under 
him.  He  was  young,  with  refined  features.  He 
was  very  carefully  dressed  and  was  wearing  extremely 
fine  linen.  One  of  the  blue-jackets  approached, 
turned  him  over  skilfully,  and  plunged  his  hands  in 
the  dead  man's  pockets. 

"Ah,  not  much  there,  his  pockets  have  been  cleared 
out!"     This  was  the  only  funeral  orison  he  had.^ 

The  other  bodies  were  covered  with  wounds,  for  the 
bayonet  is   a    terrible  weapon.     A  little  farther  on 

'  The  Major's  name  was  von  Oidtmann.  He  was  in  command 
of  a  Battalion  of  the  222nd  Augusta  Regiment.  The  Lieutenant's 
linen  was  marked  P.  and  P.  C. 


Eight  Days  in  Dixmudc  269 

were  the  Fusiliers  who  had  been  assassinated  in  so 
cowardly  a  way.     Their  wounds  were  frightful. 

After  this  alert,  the  morning  was  almost  tranquil. 
It  was  not  until  the  afternoon,  that  the  Artillery 
began  once  more  its  nerve-wearing  fire. 

October  27th.  Dixmude-Kapelhoek.  After  their 
failure  of  yesterday,  it  seemed  as  though  the  Germans 
wanted  to  change  the  point  of  attack.  They  went 
towards  the  north.  Thirteen  foot-bridges  had  been 
thrown  over  the  Yser  towards  Tervaete  and  some  of 
their  troops  had  landed  on  our  side  of  the  river. 

A  French  Division  reinforced  us,  thus  enabling  us 
to  make  a  vigorous  counter-olTensive,  but  without 
regaining  all  the  lost  land.  The  Artillery  struggle 
began  again  more  fiercely  than  ever.  The  heavy  guns 
were  used  almost  entirely.  Their  projectiles  seemed 
to  cut  the  air.  The  explosions  were  terrible,  sending 
up  into  the  air  enormous  masses  of  earth.  The 
splitting  of  the  shells  was  such  that  at  800  metres 
fragments  arrived  like  a  whirlwind  with  a  threatening 
bee-like  noise.  We  picked  up  a  fragment  45  centi- 
metres long,  by  12  broad  and  6  in  thickness.  Taubes 
were  flying  overhead.  Around  Dixmude,  the  net- 
work of  trenches  was  getting  more  and  more  com- 
plicated. It  was  getting  gradually  smaller,  and  the 
encircling  movement  had  commenced. 

We  remained  at  Dixmude  until  the  6th  of  Novem- 
ber. On  that  day,  French  batteries  came  to  relieve 
us,  and  on  that  day  we  had  only  one  cannon  left  out  of 
twelve;  the  eleven  others  had  been  disabled.  We  had 
seen  the  grip  getting  tighter  and  tighter,  the  cannon- 
ading more  violent,  the  firing  more  intense,  and  the 
assaults  more  frequently  repeated.  When  necessity 
obliged  us  to  leave,  we  had,  at  any  rate,  seen  the 


270  Brave  Belgians 

inanity  of  the  adversaries'  furious  attacks  and  their 
recoil  from  the  quiet,  mounting  water  and  the  in- 
undation, which  had  just  begun  at  the  right  moment. 
We  had  been  able  to  guard  intact  the  last  shred  of  our 
beloved  Belgiimi. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

Four  Hours  with  the  Boches 

From  the  Diary  of  Dr.  van  der  Ghinst,  of  the  Caboir 
(Adi.nkerque)  Military  Ambilanxe,  and  an  Accoint 
GIVEN  BY  Leon  Deliens,  Private  of  the  iith  Live 
Regiment 

October  24th.  Dixmude,  at  night.  By  the  sinister 
light  of  the  burning  houses,  the  Belgian  soldiers  and 
the  French  Marine  Fusiliers  were  mo\'ing  about  among 
the  niins,  in  the  midst  of  the  flames  which  skimmed 
along  the  ground.  With  blackened  faces,  haggard 
eyes,  and  unkempt  beards,  their  uniforms  covered 
■^*ith  blood  and  with  dust,  they  went  up  and  down  the 
streets,  springing  over  the  stones,  beams,  and  debris 
of  all  kinds,  and  climbing  over  walls.  The  gigantic 
shadows  which  they  threw  added  to  the  phantas- 
magoria of  the  strange  scene.  From  time  to  time  a 
shrapnel  burst,  vibrating  in  the  air  with  the  sound  of 
a  huge  tuning-fork,  or  v^-iXh.  a  great  flood  of  light  the 
explosion  of  a  shell  made  the  cracked  walls  shake. 

Our  relief  post  was  installed  in  what  had  formerly 
been  a  much  frequented  drawing-room  in  the  house 
of  a  notary.  Presently,  the  stretcher-bearers  brought 
in  a  wounded  man  who,  between  his  groans,  told  us 
that  the  Germans  had  entered  the  town.  This 
seemed  incredible,   as  our  trenches  formed  an  un- 

271 


2']2  Brave  Belgians 

interrupted  barrier.  We  thought  the  man  must  be 
deHrious.  Very  soon,  a  second  wounded  man  told  us 
the  same  thing  and  it  was  confirmed  by  a  third. 
One  of  them  told  us  that  he  had  seen  the  dead  body  of 
a  German  at  the  Square,  nearly  two  hundred  metres 
away  from  our  ambulance.  We  began  to  wonder 
whether  our  line  had  been  broken?  If  so,  it  woiild 
mean  street  fighting.  Two  days  ago,  the  French 
doctors  had  transported  their  installations  beyond  the 
Yser.  The  only  thing  for  us  to  do  was  to  imitate 
them  and  so  save  our  wounded.  Without  wasting  a 
minute,  I  had  them  put  into  an  ambulance  carriage. 
We  crossed  the  bridge  and  took  the  road  leading  to 
Caeskerke.  On  arriving  at  a  little  wine-shop,  about 
four  hundred  yards  outside  this  place,  where  another 
Belgian  relief  post  had  been  installed,  we  carried  otir 
patients  in  and  made  them  as  comfortable  as  we 
could. 

In  the  night,  I  was  roused  suddenly  by  my  faithful 
orderly. 

"The  Germans  are  here!"  he  shouted,  shaking  me 
out  of  my  slumber.  In  a  second,  I  was  on  my  feet. 
All  my  companions,  doctors  and  stretcher-bearers,  I 
found  in  the  principal  room  of  the  wine-shop,  talking 
together  in  the  dark.  I  asked  what  had  happened 
and  they  explained  to  me,  in  a  whisper,  that  a  trumpet 
blast,  which  was  not  ours,  had  been  heard.  After 
that  there  had  been  firing  and  shouts,  and  then  a  rush 
of  men  passing  like  a  hurricane  by  oiu:  door,  in  the 
direction  of  Caeskerke.  They  were  all  shouting: 
"Hurrah!" 

If  this  were  so,  our  lines  must  have  been  forced  and, 
whatever  happened,  it  was  necessary  for  us  to  know 
the  truth.     Anything  was  better  than  this  mortal 


Four  Hours  with  the  Bodies      273 

anguish.  I  opened  the  door.  It  was  pitch-dark 
outside,  an  October  night,  cold  and  rainy.  I  could 
hear  groans  coming  from  the  house  opposite.  With 
my  Browning  in  my  hand  I  entered  and,  by  the  light 
of  my  electric  lamp,  I  saw  two  men  stretched  out  on 
the  floor,  side  by  side,  giving  no  sign  of  life.  On 
approaching,  I  recognised  Lieutenant  Richard,  of  the 
Navy,  and  Ahh6  Le  Helloco.  I  heard  a  groan  coming 
from  a  corner  of  the  room  and  found  Dr.  Duguct,  the 
Head  Doctor  of  the  Marine  Fusiliers. 

Two  stretcher-bearers,  in  answer  to  my  call,  came 
and  fetched  my  unfortunate  colleague  to  our  relief 
station. 

"My  back  is  broken,  "  he  said,  with  a  moan. 

I  tried  to  reassure  him,  and  he  then  told  me  that, 
on  hearing  the  shouts,  the  three  officers,  less  prudent 
than  we  had  been,  rushed  to  the  door  of  their  house. 
Their  outline,  standing  out  in  the  framework  of  the 
door,  made  an  excellent  target  and  they  had  all  three 
fallen,  hit  by  the  horde  as  it  rushed  forwards.  We 
wondered  what  would  happen  next  and  what  had 
become  of  our  Staff,  which  had  its  Headquarters  in 
one  of  the  neighbouring  houses.  What  had  happened 
to  our  brave  Colonel  Jacques,  to  Captain  Philippron, 
and  to  their  comrades?  I  rushed  to  the  house  where 
they  were  installed,  and  rapped.  The  door  was 
promptly  opened,  but  several  revolvers  were  all  I  saw, 
and  they  were  pointed  at  my  head. 

"  Doctor  van  der  Ghinst ! "  I  shouted. 

At  the  sound  of  my  voice,  the  Brownings  were 
lowered.  In  spite  of  the  darkness,  I  recognised 
Colonel  Jacques. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  joke.  Colonel?"   I 

asked. 


274  Brave  Belgians 

"Yes,  yes,"  answered  the  voice  of  our  Chief,  "the 
African."  "The  Boches  have  got  through.  You 
cannot  stay  here;  we  must  have  a  reinforcement." 

"Where  is  it  to  be  found?" 

"There  is  a  BattaHon  at  Caeskerke.  The  question 
is  who  will  go  and  take  the  information? " 

"I  will,"  I  answered.  "The  road  appears  to  be 
clear." 

I  was  soon  on  my  way.  A  French  sailor,  going  in 
the  same  direction,  went  with  me.  It  was  perfectly 
dark.  Stretching  our  heads  forward,  we  tried  to  peer 
into  the  darkness.  We  had  scarcely  gone  two  hundred 
yards  when  we  heard  voices. 

"Halt!"  cried  someone.  Thinking  I  had  to  deal 
only  with  French  soldiers,  I  replied:  "Belgian 
doctor."  "Hands  up!"  was  the  command.  I  could 
now  see,  in  the  ditch,  to  the  left,  some  pointed  helmets 
and  also  some  bayonets  confronting  us.  There  was 
nothing  to  be  done,  as  all  resistance  would  have  been 
in  vain.  If  we  had  moved  a  step,  we  would  have 
been  killed.  We  had  to  go  down  into  the  ditch,  where 
we  found  other  victims.  I  protested  in  German, 
declaring  that  I  was  a  doctor.  Thanks  to  this,  I  had 
to  attend  a  great  lanky  Teuton  officer,  who  had  been 
wounded  in  the  leg.  I  gradually  distinguished  a 
certain  number  of  prisoners,  among  whom  I  recog- 
nised Leon  Deliens  and  Gaston  de  JMarteau,  Privates 
of  the  nth  Line  Regiment.  Their  hands  were  tied 
behind  their  backs,  their  braces  cut,  and  their  trousers 
unbuttoned,  so  that  it  was  impossible  for  them  to 
escape.  The  same  fate  awaited  me  and  also  my 
companion  in  distress.  I  protested  energetically  in 
German,  and  this  produced  a  magical  effect.  An 
officer  questioned  me  and  asked  me  about  the  position 


Four  Hours  with  the  Boches      275 

of  the  troops  at  Dixmude.  "I  am  a  doctor,"  I 
replied,  "and  I  know  nothing  about  military  questions. 
Even  if  I  could  reply,  though,  I  should  not,  as  sucli 
questions  are  contrary  to  the  stipulations  of  The 
Hague  Treaty."     The  officer  did  not  insist. 

In  the  dark  night,  an  absolute  silence  reigned,  only 
broken  now  and  then  by  the  brief  orders  of  the  Chief, 
a  Major  with  a  hoarse  voice,  whose  name  was  von 
Oidtmann.  Presently  a  carriage  appeared  on  the 
road.  It  was  a  French  Red  Cross  ambulance  car  that 
the  Boches  had  captured.  The  Major  sent  it  to 
Dixmude  with  the  order  to  get  to  the  German  lines 
and  bring  back  instructions  to  him.  When  the 
carriage  reached  the  bridge,  the  French  sentinel  cried 
out:  "Halt!  Who  goes  there?"  "Red  Cross," 
answered  the  German  driver.  You  can  imagine  that, 
in  an  instant,  the  carriage  was  surrounded  and  that, 
one  after  another,  the  Boches  were  taken  out. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Major  and  his  three  Lieuten- 
ants were  deliberating  in  the  ditch.  By  listening  to 
their  discussions,  I  gathered  that  seventy  Germans  had 
managed  to  get  through  our  lines  at  the  junction 
between  a  French  and  a  Belgian  trench,  that  they  had 
passed  through  Dixmude,  crossed  the  bridge,  and 
rushed  along  the  Caeskerke  road  like  a  bomb,  passing 
by  the  relief  posts,  the  various  Stafifs,  and  reserves. 
They  were  now  hiding  in  this  ditch,  three  hundred 
yards  away  from  the  railway  station,  and  were  awaiting 
the  remainder  of  their  Battalion,  which  did  not  arrive. 
One  or  two  of  the  Marine  Fusiliers  were  captured  as 
they  were  passing  along  the  road,  and  a  cyclist  who 
refused  to  stop  was  killed.  The  time  seemed  very 
long  and  the  Major  was  evidently  getting  impatient, 
for,  whilst  I  was  talking  to  one  of  my  warders,  I 


276  Brave  Belgians 

overheard  him  give  the  following  orders:  "Shoot  the 
prisoners!"  I  protested  and,  to  my  great  astonish- 
ment, my  warder  protested  too.  "No,  "  he  said,  "we 
cannot  behave  inhiimanely,  not  the  doctor!"  Know- 
ing the  severity  of  the  German  discipline,  I  was 
agreeably  surprised  at  this  instance  of  individuality. 
The  young  German  who  protested  was  charming. 
He  was  a  Berlin  law-student,  and  several  of  his 
university  friends  protested  with  him,  so  that  the 
order  was  not  carried  out. 

Presently,  the  Germans  got  up,  and  endeavoured  to 
advance,  but  the  head  of  their  column  came  to  a 
trench  occupied  by  the  Marine  Fusiliers.  A  few  shots 
were  exchanged  and  the  troop,  after  crossing  a  field, 
went  in  the  direction  of  the  railway  line.  There  we 
made  another  halt  and,  for  the  second  time,  the  order 
was  given:  "Shoot  the  prisoners!"  The  order  was 
not  executed  this  time,  probably  thanks  to  the  inter- 
vention of  a  German  soldier,  who  was  a  doctor.  He 
had  introduced  himself  to  me  whilst  we  were  marching 
and  he  told  me  that  he  should  speak  to  the  army 
doctor. 

The  Germans  now  saw  that  their  comrades  had 
not  been  able  to  follow  them  and  that  their  only 
chance  of  safety  was  to  go  back,  by  the  railway  bridge, 
across  the  Yser,  and  get  to  their  own  lines  again.  We 
went  over  the  railway  line  from  Caeskerke  to  Dixmude 
and  were  only  twenty  yards  away  from  the  armoured 
train  which  they  did  not  see.  We  walked  along  in 
silence,  two  by  two,  with  our  warders  on  guard. 
Presently  we  came  to  a  group  of  about  fifteen  Germans 
who  were  behind  a  mill  and  we  all  lay  down  on  the 
ground.  Four  shrapnels  burst  over  our  heads.  A 
young    sailor    had    his   leg    shot    through.      Deliens 


Four  Hours  with  the  Bochcs      277 

dressed  the  wound  quickly.     A    German    said    in  a 
mocking   tone:     "Good   German   shrapnels!"     This 
was  true.     We  set  off  again  and  for  more  than  two 
hours  we  walked  across  fields,  jumping  hedges,  ditches, 
and  streams.    When  we  were  trying  to  avoid  a  stream 
about  three  yards  wide,  a  German  asked :  "  Is  that  the 
Yser?"    We  could  not  help  laughing.    We  were  now 
quite  lost  and  were  plodding  along  in  the  mud,  frozen 
to  the  bones.     The  officers  went  groping  along.    With 
the  help  of  an  electric  lamp  hidden  in  their  long  coats, 
they  consulted  their  maps  and  the  compass.    Between 
the  Major   and  his  subordinates  there  were  violent 
discussions  as  to  the  way  we  should  go.    I  noticed  the 
confidence  the  Germans  have  in  their  chief.     Every 
minute  we  could  hear  someone  asking:     "Where  is 
the  Major?"  and  he,  with  brief  orders,  shouted  in  a 
hoarse  voice,    reminding  them    to  pay  attention  to 
the  prisoners,   maintained  cohesion  among  his  grey 
flock.      My   poor    companions   in  misfortune,   some 
of  whom,  at    my  request,    were   freed,  now    helped 
each    other,    dragging   along   in    groups   with   great 
difficulty.      The     young     soldier    who     had     been 
wounded,  leaning  on  Deliens  and  de  Marteau,  trotted 
along  courageously,  leaving  a  track  of  blood  behind 

him. 

Several  young  law  and  theology  students  walked 
with  me  and  we  conversed  in  German.  They  were 
Volunteers  of  the  202nd  Regiment,  who  had  just 
arrived  fresh  from  Berlin  and  who  were  under  fire  for 
the  first  time. 

"How  long  do  you  think  the  war  will  last?"  they 

asked. 

"Six  months,  or  perhaps  more,  "  I  replied. 

"Oh   no,"    they   exclaimed,    "that   is   impossible. 


278  Brave  Belgians 

"Italy  has  declared  war  on  France  and  we  have  just 
taken  250,000  Russian  prisoners.  " 

"And  do  you  believe  such  tales?"  I  asked. 

"We  must  believe  what  we  are  told." 

When  I  asked  them  why  they  had  attacked  Belgium, 
I  could  get  no  other  reply  than  the  one  word: 
"Necessity." 

They  were  surprised,  in  their  turn,  that  so  many 
young  men  in  Belgium  were  not  under  arms  and  they 
were  proud  of  their  own  patriotism,  which,  beside  the 
compulsory  service,  had  given  them  2,000,000  Volun- 
teers.    "We  have  15,000,000  soldiers,"  they  said. 

"We  are  through  with  it,  are  we  not,  Doctor?" 
asked  an  officer  in  a  jeering  tone.  I  simply  shrugged 
my  shoulders  in  an  evasive  way.  We  were  marching 
all  the  time  and  when  we  turned  a  corner,  in  the 
darkness,  we  always  ran  the  risk  of  coming  upon  a 
field-gun  which  would  mow  down  friends  or  enemies 
alike.    From  time  to  time  we  were  grouped. 

A  soldier  pushed  me  roughly  and  I  protested. 

"I  am  an  officer,  if  you  please,"  I  said,  and  oh, 
discipline,  he  apologised ! 

Another  soldier  wanted  me  to  carry  his  bag.  I 
refused  on  the  same  ground,  and  he  did  not  insist. 

Gradually,  the  night  became  less  dark  and  the  dawn 
appeared.  It  was  the  pale  dawn  of  a  rainy  day. 
About  seven  hundred  yards  away  from  us,  in  the  in- 
distinct light,  we  saw  a  woman  and  a  child  hurrying 
along,  laden  with  packages.     A  few  shots  were  fired. 

"  Gute  Leute,  "  said  some  men  and  the  firing  ceased. 
A  similar  scene  took  place  farther  on,  when  a  man 
and  a  woman  appeared  at  the  door  of  a  farm-house. 
It  was  now  light,  as  it  was  5.30.  The  smoking  ruins 
of  Dixmude  could  be  seen  through  the  mist  and  this 


Four  Hours  with  the  Boches      279 

served  as  a  landmark.  We  marched  oh  in  that  direc- 
tion, wondering  whether  this  might  prove  our  salva- 
tion or  our  misfortune.  A  discussion  began  between 
the  Major  and  one  of  his  Lieutenants.  In  the  midst 
of  it,  there  was  a  volley  fired  from  a  Belgian  trench 
which  brought  down  five  Germans.  A  brief  command 
was    given : 

"Right  about  face  and  quick  march!"  With 
bayonets  behind  us,  we  had  to  beat  a  retreat.  Some 
shots  were  fired  from  a  farm  and  bullets  whizzed 
through  the  air.  We  were  certainly  within  the  line 
of  the  Allies.  The  Major  gave  orders  that  the 
prisoners  should  march  in  front  of  the  Germans. 
Fifteen  of  us  formed  the  first  rank.  My  companion 
on  the  right.  Frigate  Captain  Jeanniot,  explained  to 
me  that,  on  seeing  the  Boches,  he  had  come  towards 
them  to  parley,  with  a  Belgian,  as  interpreter,  and 
he  had  invited  them  to  surrender.  He  had  been  made 
a  prisoner. 

"They  are  turning  round,  they  are  lost,  "  remarked 
a  soldier. 

Our  position  was  ihost  dangerous,  as  firing  was 
directed  against  us  from  every  farm. 

A  German  fell  and  I  moved  towards  him,  but  a 
brief  order:  "Vorwaerts!"  and  the  threat  of  a  pistol 
stopped  me.  The  unfortunate  man,  holding  out  his 
hand  and  imploring  help,  was  left  to  his  fate,  without 
a  word  of  encouragement  or  of  consolation.  Decidedly 
that  Major  was  a  brute.  We  were  just  passing  by 
Major  Hellebaut's  Belgian  Battery  and  we  should 
certainly  have  been  greeted  with  firing,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  Lieutenant  de  Wilde,  who  discovered,  just 
in  time,  that  there  were  Allies'  uniforms  in  the  enemy 
group.     The    situation    was    most    critical,    as    our 


28o  Brave  Belgians 

warders  were  more  and  more  occupied  with  replying 
to  the  firing  of  our  men.  This  was  our  moment  of 
neck  or  nothing.  My  stretcher-bearer  and  the  French 
sailor  whom  I  had  led  into  the  fray  followed  my  lead. 
I  moved  along  gradually,  more  and  more  slowly, 
until  I  reached  the  rear  and  then  sank  down  in  a 
trench  that  was  not  very  deep.  Nothing  happened, 
as  no  one  had  noticed  our  disappearance.  We  got 
away  by  crawling  along  and  then  with  a  few  bounds 
we  were  soon  out  of  reach.     We  were  saved! 

This  account  is  completed  by  the  soldier  L^on 
Deli  ens. 

"Just  at  this  moment,"  said  the  latter,  "a  German 
officer  shouted:  'What  must  we  do  with  the 
prisoners?  '  " 

"Shoot  them  dead!"  replied  another.  A  shot  was 
fired  at  Commander  Jeanniot,  who  was  not  hit.  It 
was  a  terrible  moment.  Our  warders  hurried  us  along 
and  pushed  us  about.  They  had  lost  their  heads  and, 
after  taking  a  roundabout  way,  they  were  going 
towards  Dixmude.  Suddenly  an  energetic  firing 
began  and  the  German  ranks  suffered  severely.  The 
Major  assembled  his  men  and  someone,  I  cannot  say 
whether  he  or  a  Lieutenant,  gave  the  order:  "Shoot 
the  prisoners  dead!"  Each  soldier  chose  a  prisoner. 
Their  bayonets  pierced  the  defenceless  breasts  of  their 
victims  and  shots  were  fired  point-blank. 

My  executioner  aimed  at  me,  his  gun  on  his  hip. 
I  flung  myself  down  on  the  ground  and  the  bullet 
passed  over  my  head.  I  got  up  again  and,  with  a 
bound,  rushed  off  some  forty  yards.  My  shoes  sank 
in  the  mud  and  I  fell  down  again  with  my  head  in  the 
mud.    The  next  bullet  must  have  missed  me,  as  I  did 


Four  Hours  with  the  Bochcs      281 

not  feel  any  wound.  There  was  a  veritable  hailstorm 
of  bullets  and,  when  I  looked  up,  the  Boches  were 
beating  a  retreat.  The  Major  was  giving  his  com- 
mands, but  in  a  Ihoarse  voice.  I  saw  the  French 
rushing  out  to  assault  and  I  was  between  two  fires. 
The  soil  flew  into  the  air,  wounded  men  were  howling 
with  pain,  and  I  could  hear  the  death  rattle  of  our 
poor  comrades  who  had  been  assassinated.  There 
was  a  medley  of  blue,  black,  and  grey  uniforms.  A 
fit  of  furious  anger  took  possession  of  me.  I  sprang 
up,  seized  a  German  gun  and  fired  the  three  cartridges 
that  the  weapon  contained.  I  waved  my  forage  cap 
towards  the  French  who  were  hurrying  along.  One 
of  them  fell;  I  seized  his  gun  with  its  bayonet  and,  in 
mad,  indescribable  rage,  animated  by  an  irresistible 
thirst  for  revenge,  I  rushed  forward  and  confronted 
Major  von  Oidtmann.  He  was  still  shouting,  holding 
his  riding-whip  in  one  hand  and  his  Browning  in  the 
other.  I  must  own  that  he  was  braver  than  ever  at 
that  moment.  I  plunged  my  bayonet  into  his  left 
side,  under  his  heart,  and  he  fell  down  all  in  a  lump. 

The  scene  then  changed  and  the  Boches  surrendered, 
holding  up  their  hands,  imploring  mercy  and  odcring 
money.  My  comrade,  de  Marteau  (spared  by  good 
luck,  as  a  bullet  had  pierced  his  forage  cap),  and  I 
took  some  prisoners  with  us  and  returned,  very  much 
astonished  at  coming  out  of  this  skirmish  safe  and 
sound. 

By  Admiral  Ronarc'h's  order,  the  Germans  we 
recognised  as  having  fired  on  the  prisoners  were  shot. 
Of  the  seventy  Boches  who  had  crossed  the  Dixmude 
bridge  twenty-five  were  living.  Of  the  fifteen 
prisoners  they  had  taken,  all  the  French  were  either 
killed  or  wounded.    The  poor  young  sailor  who  had 


282  Brave  Belgians 

been  wounded  in  the  leg  was  killed  outright  by  the 
Germans,  and  a  soldier  of  the  Belgian  Engineers  was 
massacred. 

I  never  think  of  those  frightful  hours  that  we 
passed  without  a  feeling  of  deep  admiration  for  the 
stoic  patience,  the  contemptuous  silence,  and  the 
indifference  to  death  of  Commander  Jeanniot  and  of 
all  m}^  unfortunate  companions. 


CHAPTER  XXVin 
The  Tervaete  Charge 

By  Artillery  Captain  M C 

(In  memory  of  Major  Count  Henri  d'Oultrcmont.) 

Refusing  stubbornly  to  budge  from  the  Yser,  the 
Belgian  army  was  struggling  desperately  with  the 
enemy,  making  a  frantic  effort  to  hold  on  to  the  last 
shred  of  its  beloved  country.  The  valiant  little  army 
had  been  asked  to  hold  out  for  forty-eight  hours  in  the 
gigantic  and  unequal  combat  in  which  it  was  engaged. 
It  had  done  this,  but  relief  had  not  come,  and  the 
fierce  battle  had  now  lasted  five  days.  The  defenders 
of  their  country  had  now  decided  to  die  at  this  spot 
rather  than  yield. 

The  stubborn  fight  had  so  undermined  the  strength 
of  the  heroic  army  that  it  was  now  like  a  wrestler, 
out  of  breath  and  at  the  last  gasp,  only  sustained  by 
the  extreme  tension  of  his  nerves  and  the  force  of  a 
fixed  idea.  The  army  was  short  of  ammunition  and  of 
reserves.  It  consisted  now  of  a  meagre  line  of  almost 
exhausted  men,  tired  in  every  limb,  but  making  a  last 
desperate  effort.  It  seemed  probable  that,  under  a 
formidable  push  of  the  Germans,  some  point  would 
give  way  and  cause  disaster  along  the  whole  of  the 
rest  of  the  line. 

283 


284  Brave  Belgians 

The  Germans  continued  unceasingly  to  harass  our 
wearied  troops  with  their  machine-guns  and  with 
fresh  assaults  until,  finally,  at  Tervaete  they  managed 
to  break  through  our  line.  When  once  the  breach 
was  made,  the  stream  rushed  in  like  a  wild  torrent, 
gaining  the  left  bank  of  the  river  and  driving  back 
our  Battalions  in  disorder.  With  a  frightful  whirl, 
everything  gave  way  before  the  massed  effort  of  the 
enemy.  A  furious,  mute,  desperate  counter-attack 
was  crushed  and  wasted  in  this  gulf  of  death.  It  was 
simply  stifled  and  mown  down  by  the  deadly  work  of 
two  hundred  machine-guns. 

There  was  then  a  moment  of  terrible  anguish 
experienced  along  the  whole  line.  Our  troops  had 
fallen  back,  without  yielding,  and  were  thronging 
together,  forming  two  wings  on  the  Yser,  at  the  ex- 
tremities of  the  huge  bend  where  the  Germans  had 
broken  through  the  defence. 

This  fresh  front  was  like  a  fragile  rampart  of  earth 
piled  up  in  haste  before  a  powerful  torrent,  a  rampart 
which  would  surely  fall  away  under  the  rush  of  the 
waters,  as  fast  as  it  was  built  up.  There  was  no 
longer  any  organised  unity  of  action.  Each  one  was 
fighting  on  his  own  account.  It  was  an  amalgamation 
of  horrible  looking  men,  all  covered  with  mud  and 
with  blood,  their  faces  blackened  by  the  smoke  of 
explosions.  They  no  longer  looked  like  himian  beings. 
As  they  fought  there,  with  haggard  eyes  and  weary 
arms,  it  was  more  like  a  vision  of  hell,  lighted  up  for 
a  moment  by  the  wan  flashes  from  the  guns.  We 
wondered  what  would  happen?  Was  this  to  be  the 
end  of  everything?  In  front  of  us,  the  attack  was 
still  coming  along  in  constant  and  ever-increasing 
waves,  with  an  ominous  roaring,  beating  down  our 


The  Tervaete  Charge  285 

crumbling  human  wall  with  furious  shocks.    Could  our 
army  possibly  resist  these  endless  assaults? 

Just  at  this  moment,  the  order  arrived  for  this 
spectre  of  a  troop  to  take  the  offensive  and,  by  means 
of  a  general  counter-attack,  to  fling  the  enemy  back, 
at  any  cost,  on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  The  in- 
structions given  were  in  the  following  simple  words: 
"Your  charge  must  be  a  wild  rush." 

The  order  passed  through  the  dislocated  ranks  like 
an  electrical  current.  A  thrill  of  glory  was  felt  by 
every  man  in  the  line.  The  blackened  faces  looked 
up  once  more  and  turned  pale  under  the  masks  of 
blood  and  dirt,  and  all  eyes  flashed  once  more  with  a 
superhuman  light.  A  splendid  thing  was  then  seen, 
a  thing  that  seems  incredible  in  its  grandeur.  All 
these  wavering  fragments  of  an  army  suddenly 
formed  up  again  in  a  solid  block.  In  the  fresh  ranks, 
each  man  took  his  place  just  where  he  happened  to  be. 
Wounded  men  got  up  from  the  ground  and  wedged 
their  way  into  the  mass  to  increase  the  weight. 
From  the  nearest  Sectors,  troops  rushed  forward  and 
mixed  with  the  others.  And  then  the  whole  newly 
formed  line  moved  forwards,  with  great  difficulty  at 
first,  making  a  formidable  effort  under  the  hurricane 
of  fire.  Then  a  wild  rush  took  place  and,  with  a 
bound,  they  were  there  in  the  Prussian  lines;  foot- 
soldiers,  cavalrymen,  pioneers,  gunners,  soldiers, 
and  officers,  valid  or  crippled,  all  had  flung  themselves 
pele-mele  on  their  enormous  adversary,  going  straight 
ahead  in  the  breaches  that  opened  before  them  and 
their  bayonets.  Here  and  there,  in  the  chaos  of 
mingled  troops,  a  clearer  line  marked  the  points  where 
the  neighbouring  troops  had  rushed  in  to  reinforce 


286  Brave  Belgians 

them.  In  some  places,  thanks  to  the  impulsion  of 
fresh  energy,  salient  points  could  be  seen  pushing 
forward  and  leading  on  the  rest.  And,  in  the  midst  of 
the  fray,  above  the  roaring  din  of  the  battle,  one  cry 
could  be  heard,  one  conquering  cry,  uttered  as  though 
by  one  voice  coming  from  three  thousand  men,  a  cry 
that  grew  louder  and  louder,  swelling  as  it  were  under 
the  influence  of  its  own  frenzy,  a  cry  that  could  be 
heard  over  all  the  plain,  like  the  rumbling  of  a  wild 
storm:  "Long  live  the  King!     Long  live  Belgium!" 

The  first  enemy  line  was  driven  back  under  the 
sudden  rush.  Behind  it,  the  second  line  gave  way, 
and  then  each  wave  driven  back  drove  back  the 
following  one,  and  there  was  general  disorder  among 
the  German  troops.  It  was  a  carnage  for  which  there 
are  no  words.  There  was  no  longer  any  question  of 
numbers  or  of  tactics.  Only  one  thing  was  evident 
now,  a  mysterious  and  all-powerful  thing,  the  force 
of  a  will  stronger  than  death  itself,  dominating  all 
material  things. 

The  Germans,  disconcerted  by  the  suddenness  of 
all  this,  were  seized  with  panic.  With  an  irresistible 
effort,  our  panting,  breathless  soldiers,  veritable 
phantoms  of  death,  crushed  all  resistance.  In  their 
rush  forward,  without  a  second's  hesitation  and  in  their 
continued  rush,  they  had  driven  back  the  enemy 
masses  as  far  as  the  Yser;  they  pushed  them  to  the 
brink  and  then  into  the  river  itself.  Half  dead  them- 
selves with  their  superhuman  effort,  they  reoccupied 
the  dyke  and — the  last  shred  of  Belgian  territory 
was  saved. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
A  Reconnaissance 

From  the  Diary  of  Father  H6nusse,  S.  J.,  Chaplain  of  the 
84TH   Battery 

November  28,  IQ14.  This  morning,  our  dear  Cap- 
tain had  just  begun  reading  the  daily  orders,  when  he 
suddenly  exclaimed : 

"Ah,  no,  it  begins  to  get  on  one's  nerves!  This 
footbridge  is  a  regular  see-saw.  We  cannot  go  on 
being  fooled  like  this!"  He  threw  the  paper  down  on 
the  table  and  went  out  of  the  room.  Something  was 
evidently  on  his  nerves. 

I  picked  up  the  paper  and  read  that,  contrary  to  the 
aviation  information  received  the  last  few  days,  there 
was  a  footbridge  across  the  Yser,  between  the  mile- 
stones 15  and  16,  on  a  level  with  the  petroleum  tanks 
and  opposite  the  "Nacelle."  This  was  the  tenth 
time  we  had  been  informed  that  this  bridge  existed, 
and  just  as  many  times  we  had  been  told  that  it  did 
not  exist.  We  were  first  ordered  to  destroy  it  with 
shells  and  then  to  stop  firing  there,  as  the  objective 
was  an  imaginary  one.  This  little  game  had  unhinged 
our  Captain,  and  this  morning  he  was  more  unhinged 
than  I  had  ever  seen  him.  When  he  came  back,  I 
saw  by  his  face  that  it  was  one  of  the  days  of  his  big 
decisions.    He  was  extremely  reserved,  and  appeared 

287 


288  Brave  Belgians 

to  have  his  ideas  concentrated  on  some  subject.  He 
did  not  utter  a  word  and  I  said  to  myself,  "Either  our 
Captain  is  going  to  fulminate  a  *  note '  or  he  is  going  to 
investigate  that  footbridge  himself."  I  had  guessed 
rightly.  He  put  on  his  boots  and  gaiters,  placed  his 
Browning  behind  his  hip  and  his  field-glasses  in  his 
breast-pocket,  took  up  his  cap,  and  made  his  exit, 
without  even  uttering  his  famous:  " Au  revoir,  my 
friends." 

It  was  ten  in  the  morning,  and  a  regular  November 
morning,  grey,  cold,  and  damp,  but  as  a  matter  of 
fact  no  one  took  much  notice  of  the  weather.  All 
day  long  we  were  inside  the  infamous  little  farm  that 
we  had  nicknamed  "Taboo  Farm"  because,  in  the 
midst  of  a  plain  ravaged  by  shells,  it  was  the  only 
building  that  had  remained  intact.  Two  or  three 
"saucepans"  had  fallen  in  the  farmyard,  shattering 
all  the  windows,  but  that  was  all.  We  replaced  the 
window-panes  by  planks  of  wood  and  mattresses  and 
lived  in  a  little  cavern-like  room,  sitting  round  a 
cracked  stove,  in  which  we  only  burned  wood.  As 
to  showing  our  faces  outside,  that  was  not  good 
enough.  In  the  first  place  there  was  the  mud,  the 
terrible  "polder  mud,"  slimy,  deep,  and  clinging. 
After  walking  ten  steps,  one  came  back  with  enormous 
cakes  of  about  twenty  pounds  on  each  foot.  And  then 
there  were  the  petroleum  tanks,  the  two  enormous 
tanks  over  yonder  in  the  background  of  the  Yser. 
They  dominated  the  whole  region  in  its  autimin  bare- 
ness and  were  like  two  sentinels  of  Death.  For  the 
last  month  they  had  been  riddled  by  the  firing,  and 
the  petroleum  had  flamed  up.  Oh,  the  fine  flames, 
lighting  up  with  a  glorious  fire  the  Dixmude  victory! 
These  tanks  were  now  full  of  holes  like  sieves.    One 


A  Reconnaissance  289 

of  them  had  given  way  and  fallen  in,  but  the  other 
one  was  still  standing  and  made  an  admirable  obser- 
vation-post for  the  enemy's  artillery,  so  that  we  did 
not  care  to  attract  their  terrible  "saucepans"  in  the 
direction  of  "Taboo  Farm." 

At  noon,  our  Chief  had  not  returned.  We  waited 
luncheon  until  one  o'clock  and  then  we  decided  not  to 
wait  any  longer.  The  inevitable  soup,  made  of 
preserved  peas,  and  the  pneumatic-tyre  beefsteak 
disgusted  me  a  little  more  than  usual.  I  was  feeling 
very  anxious  about  the  Captain.  I  made  enquiries 
two  or  three  times  at  the  battery,  but  the  same  reply 
came  each  time:  "We  have  not  seen  him  since  this 
morning,  when  he  came  to  give  the  command  of  the 
battery  over  to  the  Lieutenant." 

Towards  three  in  the  afternoon,  the  door  was 
opened  noisily  and  in  he  walked.  He  looked  tired  out, 
but  his  eyes  were  feverishly  bright.  Pie  was  all  be- 
starred  with  mud  and,  half  joyfully,  half  wearily,  in  a 
way  not  at  all  like  himself,  he  sank  on  to  a  chair. 

"Well,  I  always  said  so, "  he  remarked.  "There  is 
no  footbridge,  but,  my  boys,  it  came  very  near  there 
being  no  Captain  either."  .  .  .  "What  happened? 
Tell  us!"  we  all  begged,  crowding  round  him.  "Give 
me  a  beefsteak  first.  I  am  dying  of  hunger.  And  some 
coffee,  too,  for  I  am  parched  with  thirst." 

He  then  took  his  boots  off,  pitching  one  to  the  right 
and  the  other  to  the  left,  and  his  gaiters  anywhere. 

"There!"  he  said,  at  last.  "I  have  been  myself, 
for  I  had  had  enough  of  that  nonsense.  Lieutenant 
Zaeydydt,  Brigadier  Marteau,  and  I  set  off  together. 
We  could  not  stand  that  sort  of  thing  any  longer  and 
I  was  determined  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  it,  if  we  had  to 
go  right  there  ourselves.  Things  went  all  right  as  far 
19 


290  Brave  Belgians 

as  the  Yser,  to  the  milestone  i6.  The  last  of  the 
trenches  occupied  by  the  French  Territorials  are 
there,  but  we  could  not  discover  anything  that  was 
of  any  use  to  us.  Looking  out  from  there,  towards  the 
north,  on  a  level  with  the  tanks,  there  was  something 
that  looked  like  a  footbridge  over  the  Yser,  but  it 
was  not  distinct  enough  for  us  to  be  sure  about  it  and 
we  decided  to  go  on  along  the  river. 

Just  then,  the  French  howitzers  opened  fire  on  the 
tanks:  all  the  firing  was  from  eighty  to  one  hundred 
yards  too  far.  Suddenly  our  good  little  eighty-four 
began  to  spit.  You  cannot  imagine  the  pleasure  it 
gave  us  to  hear  it  quite  near  to  its  target.  It  was 
hitting  a  ruined  house  and  each  shot  entered  straight 
inside.  It  was  the  famous  wine-shop,  where  we  had 
been  told  there  was  a  battery.  All  rubbish!  There 
was  no  more  a  battery  there  than  there  is  on  my  hand. 
All  the  same  the  firing  was  good. 

"We  left  the  Territorials  and  went  on,  half  crawling. 
We  made  good  progress  along  the  river  just  below 
the  towpath.  A  hundred  yards  farther  on  were  two 
French  sentinels,  who  wished  us  good  luck,  and  then 
two  Belgian  sentinels  belonging  to  the  2nd  Chassetirs. 
We  could  see  nothing  but  their  heads  emerging  from  a 
hole,  and  after  this  we  met  no  one.  To  the  left,  was  a 
great  sheet  of  inundation,  to  the  right,  was  the  Yser, 
and  beyond,  apparently  nothing  but  deserted  ruins. 
We  kept  on  our  way  and,  presently,  came  up  against  a 
huge  tree  lying  on  the  ground  and  barring  the  tow- 
path.  We  had  to  go  round  this  obstacle  and  we  first 
passed  behind  the  ruins  of  a  little  house,  built  on  the 
roadside.  We  were  now  advancing  towards  the 
inundation.  It  was  all  terrible.  Ruins  of  houses 
broke  the  surface  of  the  lake  here  and  there.    Some- 


A  Reconnaissance  291 

times  we  saw  the  dead  bodies  of  horses  and  of  cows 
there,  too.  There  was  also  a  dead  man,  a  poor  young 
Belgian  Chasseur.  He  must  have  been  there  since 
the  Dixmude  battle.  He  was  fair-haired,  half  buried 
in  the  mud,  his  gun  under  his  arm  and  his  head  thrown 
back,  so  that  his  pointed  beard  was  skyward  and  he 
was  wearing  an  eyeglass.  We  were  now  once  more  on 
the  towpath  and  were  a  little  nearer  the  famous  foot- 
bridge. It  was  only  a  hundred  yards  from  us.  We 
stood  still  and  at  once  understood.  On  looking  at  the 
map,  you  will  see  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Yser  the  two 
petroleum  tanks  near  the  towpath,  where  we  then 
were.  On  the  right  bank  is  the  "Nacelle,"  as  indi- 
cated on  the  map,  but  at  this  spot,  150  yards  above  the 
tanks,  the  Yser  makes  a  bend  and,  consequently, 
what  is  at  the  water's  edge  on  the  left  bank  looks, 
from  where  we  are,  as  though  it  were  on  the  right 
bank.  Now  on  the  left,  starting  from  the  tanks  and 
projecting  over  the  river,  are  two  big  pipes,  by  means 
of  which  the  boats  get  the  petroleum  on  board,  and 
these  two  pipes,  seen  projecting  on  the  right  bank, 
are  what  had  been  taken  for  a  footbridge,  and  it  is 
on  this  imaginary  footbridge  that  we  have  been  firing 
like  imbeciles. 

"Farther  on,  there  is  a  footbridge  facing  the  road 
which  crosses  the  last  'e'  of  Oudstuyvekenskerkc  on 
the  map.  Just  as  we  had  taken  note  of  this,  we 
heard  'Bzim!  Bzim!  Bzim!'  and  a  whole  collection  of 
balls  broke  up  the  ground  around  us.  We  threw 
outselves  flat  down  first,  and  then  began  to  concert. 
Where  had  they  come  from  was  the  first  question. 
It  was  not  possible  to  decide  that,  but,  instinctively, 
we  suspected  the  petroleum  tanks  and  the  terrible 
house  with  turrets,  to  the  left  of  the  petroleum  tanks, 


292  Brave  Belgians 

and  the  cemented  cellar,  between  the  house  and  the 
tanks,  where  we  could  see  the  black  mouths  of  the 
loopholes.  We  decided  to  rush  along  the  towpath 
and  bury  ourselves  in  the  deserted  trenches  along  the 
bank  sloping  down  to  the  river.  We  went  along  like 
three  zebras.  'Bzim!  Bzim!  Bzim!'  We  were  in 
our  holes  though — for  our  refuge  was  not  a  regular 
trench,  but  separate  holes  made  for  single  riflemen 
and  divided  by  earth. 

"  Zaeydydt  was  in  one  hole,  Marteau  in  another,  and 
I  in  a  third,  separated  from  each  other  by  the  distance 
of  a  yard  to  a  yard  and  a  half.  We  were  quiet  for  a 
few  minutes,  getting  our  breath  again,  and  then  we 
began  a  fresh  consultation,  without  being  able  to  see 
each  other.  As  there  were  about  twenty  of  these 
holes,  we  decided  that  we  would  each  spring  out, 
turn  round  on  our  stomachs,  so  that  our  legs  should 
drop  into  the  next  hole,  and  then  slip  down  bodily 
into  it.  This  we  did,  and  the  Boches  must  have  had 
an  amusing  sight  if  they  were  watching  us.  Three 
men  springing  out  of  a  hole,  pirouetting  on  their 
stomachs,  and  disappearing  into  the  next  hole.  Each 
time  we  were  greeted  by  the  same  volley,  'Bzim! 
Bzim!  Bzim!' 

"I  now  know  something  of  the  sensations  of  my 
rabbit-brothers,  when  the  shooting  season  commences. 
Just  at  that  moment,  I  remembered  that  I  had  not 
said  a  word  to  our  chaplain,  our  dear,  good  chaplain, 
before  starting  on  this  expedition.  I  regretted  this, 
but  at  the  same  time  I  did  not  know  what  I  could 
have  said  to  him. 

"We  reached  our  last  shelters  in  this  way.  The 
Lieutenant  joined  me  in  my  hole.  He  was  laughing 
like  a  lunatic,  but  I  was  not  laughing  at  all. 


A  Reconnaissance  293 

'"Marteau!  Brigadier  Marteau!'  I  called  out. 
There  was  no  reply. 

"Good  Heavens!  Had  he  been  hit  at  the  last 
hole?' 

"'Marteau!'  I  called  again  and  a  voice  that 
sounded  a  long  way  off  replied,  'Captain!* 

"'Are  you  whole,  my  boy?' 

"'Yes,  Captain.' 

"'Well  played  then!  Now  listen.  The  tree  that 
lies  across  the  road  is  fifty  yards  from  us.  We  arc 
going  to  run  to  it  at  full  speed,  jump  over  it,  and  lie 
down  behind  it  to  get  our  breath  again.  The  Lieuten- 
ant will  lead  off.' 

"DeZaeydydt  started  and  bullets  whizzed  through 
the  air  and  exploded.  He  reached  the  tree,  got  mixed 
up  in  the  branches,  and  rolled  on  the  ground.  I  thought 
he  had  been  hit  and  I  shuddered.  He  got  up  again, 
cleared  the  tree,  and  disappeared.  I  said  to  myself, 
'  My  dear  boy,  you  are  too  short  to  scale  that.  You 
had  better  go  round  the  tree  again  and  the  house.' 
'Marteau,'  I  called  out,  'I  am  going  to  start.  Follow 
me.'  I  sprang  out.  Marteau  followed  me  and  there 
was  a  shower  of  bullets,  but  our  hour  had  not  yet 
come — and  we  got  through  safely. 

"We  were  very  soon  in  the  French  trenches  and 
the  soldiers  welcomed  us  heartily.  They  had  not 
expected  to  see  us  again.  Our  return  journey,  from 
the  time  we  had  seen  the  first  bullet  to  the  last  one, 
had  taken  an  hour  and  twenty  minutes.  Ah,  I  forgot 
to  tell  you  that  we  had  taken  notes  on  the  map  and 
from  the  last  'e'  of  Kaesteelhoek,  there  was  a  gleam 
from  a  Boche  battery.  That  battery  will  hear  from 
us  to-morrow!" 

The  beefsteak  and  the  coffee  now  put  in  an  appear- 


294  Brave  Belgians 

ance,  and  our  Captain  started  on  his  meal  like  a  wolf 
that  had  been  starving  for  a  fortnight  in  the  snow. 
He  is  now  sleeping  and  I  am  noting  down  this  souvenir 
of  the  war,  by  the  side  of  a  fire  which  is  smoking 
badly,  as  it  is  raining  and  raining  outdoors.  .  .  . 

December  6,  1914.  Great  joy  at  our  battery.  Our 
Captain  has  received  the  Order  of  Leopold  for  his 
fine  reconnaissance,  November  28,  1914,  on  the  Yser. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

The  Irony  of  Fate 

By  M.  Sadsawska,  Civic  Guard,  Motorcyclist  of  the  ist 
Line  Regiment 

We  were  occupying  the  Dixmude  Sector,  Our 
trenches  were  hollowed  out  in  the  road  which  skirts 
the  Yser,  and  the  Regiment  was  sheltering  in  the 
centre  of  a  vast  horseshoe-shaped  curl,  traced  by  the 
river  among  the  meadow  grasses.  The  scenery  was 
dolefully  sad.  Beyond  a  row  of  century-old  trees,  or 
rather  of  poor  trunks  of  trees  bewailing  their  scathed 
branches,  which  seemed  to  be  mounting  guard  around 
our  shelters,  the  ruins  of  a  railway  bridge  stood  out, 
half  hidden  in  the  water.  On  the  embankment,  sur- 
rounded by  broken  and  twisted  telegraph  poles,  and 
festoons  of  wires  and  cables  all  mixed  up,  lay  a  power- 
ful locomotive,  which  had  been  overturned,  so  that 
its  wheels  were  in  the  air.  The  melancholincss  of  the 
site  did  not  disturb  our  equanimity  at  all.  We  were 
full  of  hopefulness  and  quite  ready  to  march  on 
towards  the  piles  of  fallen  roofs,  gaping  houses,  and 
tottering  walls  of  strange  shapes,  which  now  consti- 
tuted Dixmude,  our  old  Flemish  city.  In  the  misty 
twilight,  it  seemed  to  us  as  though  the  poor  town  were 
stretching  out  its  mutilated  arms  to  us,  and  as  though 
the  murmur  of  the  wind  in  the  ruins  were  hailing  us. 

295 


296  Brave  Belgians 

"Courage,  courage,  come!"  it  seemed  to  say. 

Alas!  the  few  hundred  yards  of  verdure,  which  our 
thoughts  and  our  wishes  cleared  only  too  willingly, 
hid  the  entrenchments  and  the  redoubts  of  the  enemy. 
Every  night,  the  bravest  of  our  men  started  out 
patrolling,  endeavouring  to  discover  the  barbed  wire, 
the  ambushes,  and  the  traps  set  for  us.  Sergeant 
Renson  had  specially  distinguished  himself  for  his 
daring  and  his  sang-froid.  He  was  naturally  of  an 
adventurous  nature  and  was  an  excellent  soldier. 
In  spite  of  his  mature  age,  he  had  joined  the  col- 
ours as  a  volunteer  at  the  very  beginning  of  the 
war. 

He  was  anxious  to  find  out  whether  some  informa- 
tion he  had  obtained  on  a  preceding  expedition  was 
exact,  as  it  was  very  difficult  on  these  ink-black  nights 
to  distinguish  the  real  from  the  imaginary.  He, 
therefore,  expressed  a  wish  to  carry  out  a  reconnais- 
sance alone,  and  by  daylight,  in  the  direction  of  the 
enemy's  lines.  "I  am  not  afraid  of  death,"  he  said 
to  his  chiefs.  "I  have  always  lived  in  my  own  way 
and  I  now  want  to  carry  out  this  plan.  I  am  free  to 
risk  my  own  skin  and,  as  I  am  forty-two  years  old,  I 
should  not  be  any  great  loss."  He  was  finally  allowed 
to  do  as  he  wished. 

He  went  along  a  narrow,  long  passage,  until  he 
came  to  the  edge  of  the  Yser,  just  where  a  few  planks 
formed  a  raft.  This  means  of  transport  was  invaluable 
at  night,  but  could  not  be  used  by  daylight,  as  the 
enemy  was  on  the  watch.  Renson  could  not  swim. 
That  did  not  trouble  him  and  he  crossed  the  ciirrent 
clinging  to  a  cable.  Accustomed  as  he  was  to  all 
kinds  of  difficulties,  this  was  mere  child's  play  to  him. 
He  reached  the  other  side,  slipped  into  a  big  sack 


The  Irony  of  Fate  297 

covered  with  grass  and  flowers,  and,  under  this  mantle 
of  verdure,  crawled  along  dexterously. 

Our  emotion  was  intense  in  the  trenches.  All  eyes 
were  watching  him,  there  was  not  a  single  loophole 
unoccupied. 

Under  the  rays  of  the  sun,  we  saw  this  moving 
grass  crossing  the  meadow.  It  advanced,  fell  back, 
turned,  stopped,  appeared  and  disappeared,  according 
to  the  undulations  of  the  soil.  Our  hero  was  gaining 
ground.  He  was  observing  in  his  own  defiant  way, 
braving  death  itself.  Nothing  daunted  him,  nothing 
seemed  to  affect  him.  He  was  there,  moving  about 
in  front  of  the  enemy's  line.  Our  hearts  were  beating 
wildly.  Every  time  that  a  bullet  whizzed  along,  it 
was  anguish  to  us,  and  each  minute  seemed  eternal. 

Finally  Renson  turned  round  and,  slowly  and 
methodically,  began  to  wend  his  way  back.  After  a 
few  yards  more  he  would  be  in  safety.  We  saw  him 
on  the  crest  of  the  bank.  He  glided  into  the  water, 
crossed  the  stream,  entered  the  narrow  passage,  and 
was  soon  back  in  the  trenches,  contented  and  happy, 
bringing  with  him  valuable  information.  And  this 
man,  who  had  thus  braved  death,  laughed  heartily,  as 
he  gave  us  flowers  from  the  German  trenches.  He 
then  went  to  his  shelter  and  prepared  his  report, 
tracing  in  full  detail  the  daring  itinerary  he  had  chosen. 
The  Commander  questioned  him  on  some  point  and, 
in  order  to  explain  better  and  to  show  the  exact  spot, 
they  both  approached  a  loophole  in  a  commu- 
nication trench.  The  Sergeant  pointed  with  his 
finger  to  the  spot  in  the  meadow  where  the  enemy  was 
observing.  A  few  seconds  later  and  he  was  moving 
away.  .  .  .     Malediction! 

There  was  a  cruel  whizzing  soimd  and  Renson  was 


298  Brave  Belgians 

dead.  His  skull  had  been  pierced  and  he  fell  to  the 
ground,  the  earthen  wall  bespattered  with  his  generous 
blood. 

At  Alveringhem,  in  a  peaceful  country  cemetery,  in 
a  grave  covered  with  flowers  and  surmounted  by  a 
large  cross,  lies  Adjutant  Renson,  Knight  of  the 
Order  of  Leopold  II.  who  died  for  his  country. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 
Observers 

By  Artillery  Captain  M  ,  .  .  C  .  .  . 

Leaning  on  my  beam,  I  looked  out  into  the  night. 
It  was  a  beautiful  winter  night,  dreamy  and  peaceful. 
A  vague  gleam  of  moonlight  hovered  over  the  serene 
space,  touching  the  fleecy  clouds  which  were  floating 
in  the  sky.  And  yet  everything  was  sad  with  an 
infinite  sadness. 

From  the  summit  on  which  I  was  perched,  I  looked 
out  on  every  side  on  an  immense  horizon,  and  on 
every  side  it  was  a  desert  of  death  and  desolation. 
In  front  of  me  were  the  Germans.  Five  hundred 
yards  separated  us  from  their  outposts  and  that  was 
the  only  side  where  there  was  no  water.  To  the  right, 
to  the  left,  and  behind  us  was  the  inundation,  a  great 
hvunid  street,  which,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  shone 
strangely  under  the  wan  moonbeams,  a  weird  shroud, 
covering,  in  its  icy  folds,  thousands  of  corpses  buried 
in  the  mud.  Here  and  there,  a  dark  spot  could  be 
seen  in  the  water.  It  was  all  that  remained  of  a  farm, 
a  charred,  crumbling  skeleton,  or  there  was  a  dead 
beast  breaking  through  the  winding-sheet,  or  a  human 
corpse  turning  its  grimacing  face  to  the  moon.  There 
were  two,  not  far  away  from  me,  that  I  knew  well. 

299 


300  Brave  Belgians 

For  some  months,  they  had  been  my  daily  compan- 
ions. The  first  one  was  a  Geraian  with  a  ravaged 
face,  showing  all  its  teeth  in  a  horrible  grin.  The 
other  one  was  a  Belgian.  Only  the  face  emerged  and 
the  water  splashed  round  it,  leaving  green  shreds  on 
its  grey  cheeks.  A  dark  bird  was  poised  on  its  nose, 
pecking  at  its  gnawed  eye  sockets.  Oh,  shades  of 
heroes!  Can  the  glory  that  surrounds  you  with  its 
halo  not  cover  the  remains  of  your  poor  profaned 
bodies? 

There  was  a  deadly  calm  and  the  cold  wind  made 
the  trembling  reeds  rustle.  Every  breeze  brought  me 
a  whiff  of  fulsome  decay.  Nothing  broke  the  silence, 
except  the  funereal  croaking  of  the  birds  of  prey  and 
the  wail  of  the  sea-gulls,  which  kept  hovering  in  long 
flights  over  the  deserted  space.  Oh,  the  sadness  and 
the  infamy  of  war !  This  then  is  your  work,  oh  brutal 
and  barbarous  force,  the  rights  of  which  men  dare  in 
our  days  still  affirm  and  glorify ! 

Presently,  some  stealthy  footsteps  were  to  be 
heard.  It  was  the  guard  being  relieved.  On  the  long 
footbridge,  which  was  all  that  united  oiu"  men  with 
the  outpost,  a  line  of  silent  figures  passed.  A  flash 
was  to  be  seen,  lighting  up  the  darkness,  and  this  was 
immediately  followed  by  about  twenty  shots.  The 
troop  passed  underneath  my  observation  post.  There 
was  a  fresh  flash,  and  a  bullet  struck  the  wall  under 
my  feet.  There  was  a  cry  followed  by  a  long  groan. 
It  was  a  wounded  man.  He  was  carried  away  and 
the  others  went  on  to  occupy  the  trenches. 

Our  order  here  had  been  to  hold  out  to  the  very 
death.  Retreat  was  impossible  anyhow.  To  be 
convinced  of  this,  one  had  only  to  look  at  the  immense 


Observers  301 

stretch  of  water  which  separated  us  from  our  first 
lines,  that  dark  band  in  the  distant  horizon. 

The  change  of  guard  was  scarcely  finished  when  I 
heard  a  well-known  strain  coming  from  afar.  It  was 
a  "saucepan"  on  its  way:  "  Ou-o(i-ou-o<i !  ..."  It 
was  a  fifteen  calibre. 

"Boom!"  It  exploded  five  yards  away  from  mc, 
covering  me  with  mud.  It  was  the  moment  when 
every  man  crouches  down  in  his  shelter,  but,  for  the 
observer,  it  was  the  moment  to  see  something  and  to 
get  up  higher,  if  possible,  in  order  to  gaze  out  at  the 
land  around.  A  second  shot  was  to  be  heard  and,  so 
far,  I  had  seen  nothing.  An  infernal  noise  shook  the 
building  under  me.  That  was  charming.  I  sent  my 
two  aids  to  get  under  cover  and  I  fixed  a  certain  spot 
in  the  darkness.  Ah,  there  was  a  gleam  of  light. 
Quick,  I  had  to  place  it,  whilst  the  projectile  was  on 
its  way.  This  was  aimed  too  far.  It  passed  like  a 
whirlwind  over  my  head.  Quick  with  the  telephone! 
Good,  we  are  going  to  reply.  Thirty  seconds  later, 
a  volley  started  from  us,  and  now  the  concert  began 
in  earnest.  An  enemy  battery  answered  oiu*  firing. 
On  our  side,  a  second  one  was  brought  into  action, 
and  this  bombarded  the  German  post  in  front  of  me. 
Presently,  there  was  a  deafening  noise  on  all  sides. 
I  could  no  longer  hear  the  German  projectiles,  but  red 
flashes  and  formidable  shocks  warned  me  that  we 
were  coming  in  for  it. 

I  shouted  my  observations  to  the  telephonist, 
who  could  scarcely  hear  me  a  storey  lower.  Finally 
the  battery  which  was  firing  on  us  was  reduced  to 
silence.  Others  went  on  firing,  but  slackened  down 
and,  at  the  end  of  an  hour,  there  was  dead  si- 
lence again,   broken   only   by    bullets   which,    from 


302  Brave  Belgians 

one   trench    to    the    other,    were   fired  in  search  of 
victims. 

When  my  time  had  expired,  I  went  down  below  and 
was  surprised  to  see  my  brave  Lienart  at  the  side  of 
the  ladder.  He  had  been  observing  too.  Instead  of 
getting  under  cover,  during  the  storm,  he  had  come 
up  to  help  in  case  of  need.  As  to  the  telephonist, 
Comez,  I  found  him  crouching  down  near  his  appara- 
tus. "No  chance  of  going  to  sleep  here!"  he  said,  on 
seeing  me.  And  as  it  was  his  turn,  he  went  up  to  take 
my  place. 

I  threw  myself  down  on  my  "flea  sack"  (the  name 
answered  to  the  reality  in  this  case)  and  I  slept  the 
sleep  of  the  observer,  which  had  now  become  a  habit 
with  me.  That  is,  I  had  one  ear  closed  and  the  other 
listening  to  every  sound.  I  kept  my  boots  on,  my 
pistol  and  cartridge  case  at  my  side,  and  my  carbine 
within  reach. 

Suddenly,  a  bullet  passed  quite  near,  with  that 
special  click  peculiar  to  shots  fired  at  a  short  distance. 
A  volley  of  shots  then  came,  flattening  themselves 
against  the  walls.  We  were  all  quickly  on  the  alert. 
I  went  to  look  out  at  the  observation  post.  It  was 
probably  an  enemy  patrol  wandering  about.  Three 
men  offered  to  go  out  in  search  of  this  and  quickly 
started  off,  crawling  along  in  the  darkness.  A  few 
shots  were  exchanged  and  then  all  was  quiet.  The 
German  patrol  had  withdrawn. 

When  I  returned  to  my  post,  I  felt  suddenly  chilly. 
I  lighted  a  few  pieces  of  wood  in  my  brick  oven  and 
cooked  three  sweet  potatoes  over  the  cinders.  This 
had  been  our  usual  meal  since  we  had  been  at  this 
observation  post. 


Observers  303 

Gradually,  whilst  the  wood  was  crackling  and 
Cornez,  who  had  been  relieved,  was  snoring  near  me, 
I  began  to  think  of  my  home  and  of  my  old  parents, 
who  were  watching  and  waiting  so  far  away.  I 
thought,  too,  of  the  beloved  convent  which  I  had  left 
for  this  war,  and  of  the  strange  contrast  between  this 
adventurous  life  and  the  serene  life  of  the  cloister. 

For  five  months,  we  had  been  going  from  ruin  to 
ruin  in  the  midst  of  the  inundation,  trying  to  find  a 
fresh  post  among  the  putrid  waters,  as  soon  as  the 
shells  had  reduced  the  preceding  one  to  a  heap  of  rains. 
A  hundred  times  death  had  hovered  over  us,  and  a 
hundred  times  shells  had  paid  us  their  gracious  visits, 
in  the  very  rooms  in  which  we  were  living.  It  was  all 
in  vain,  though,  for  we  were  "vaccinated." 

As  to  our  diet,  it  was  worthy  of  Robinson  Crusoe. 
What  did  it  all  matter!  We  were  inured  now  to 
hunger,  thirst,  cold,  and  weariness.  The  worst  of 
everything  was  the  rain.  It  was  all  in  vain  that  we 
struggled  to  protect  our  shelter.  The  bombardment 
soon  played  havoc  with  the  roof  and  then  the  water 
was  hopeless.  It  was  no  use  thinking  of  sleep.  Drop 
by  drop,  the  rain  would  first  come  through  a  crack  in 
the  ceiling.  .  .  .  "Toe!  .  .  .  toe!  .  .  .  toe!"  .  .  . 
We  would  put  a  basin  down  for  it.  A  second  little 
streamlet  wotdd  commence.  Down  would  go  our 
saucepan  for  that.  Then  other  streamlets  would  be- 
gin, and  we  would  follow  them  all  up  with  receptacles. 
We  changed  the  places  of  our  mattresses.  It  was  all 
in  vain,  as  very  soon  the  deluge  began  again.  Among 
all  this  ceaseless  spotting,  each  drop  competed  with 
the  other  in  making  the  clearest  sound  and  the 
quickest  drip:  " Ticlictacpictoctoc "  .  .  . 

"  Tu-u-u-u-ii ! "  the  one  in  the  middle  would  say,  for 


304  Brave  Belgians" 

it  had  suddenly  found  a  way  to  make  one  steady 
stream.  That  one  certainly  deserved  the  prize,  and 
we  gave  it  the  honour  of  having  the  big  saucepan  to 
receive  it.  Finally,  we  resigned  ourselves  to  the 
inevitable.  We  had  our  feet  in  a  pool,  water  on  our 
clothes,  water  on  our  heads,  gradually  dripping  down 
our  necks,  and  our  mattresses  full  of  water.  There 
was  only  one  thing  left  for  us  to  do,  and  that  was  to 
put  on  our  big  coats  and  to  let  it  go  on  raining,  to 
shut  our  eyes  and  dream  (with  the  joyful  concert  of 
the  drip,  drip  going  on)  of  all  that  life  has  that  is 
beautiful,  great,  and  good,  provided  all  this  be  conse- 
crated to  some  holy  cause. 

Just  as  dawn  was  appearing,  I  had  an  agreeable 
visit   in   my   lonely   hermitage.      My   old   comrade, 

Lieutenant  de  W .  had  come  here  to  observe  in 

his  turn.  He  was  accompanied  by  his  two  faithful 
followers.  Quartermaster  Snysters,  an  old  Antwerp 
friend,  who  had  gone  through  the  Retreat  with  me, 
and  Gimner  Frentzen.  How  am  I  to  describe 
Frentzen?  Imagine  a  tall,  bony,  roughly-hewn  Flem- 
ish man  of  six  feet,  with  a  surly  look  and  two  small, 
keen  eyes,  constantly  lighting  up  with  a  smile. 
Frentzen  had  been  taken  prisoner  by  the  Germans. 
The  first  night,  he  went  and  found  the  sentinel,  killed 
him  with  his  fists,  and  then,  smoking  his  pipe,  returned 
calmly  to  his  Lieutenant.  My  two  Flemish  friends 
are  inseparable.  They  insult  each  other  from  morn- 
ing to  night  and  are  always  in  search  of  some  adven- 
turous exploit.  They  go  roving  about  in  the  midst  of 
the  inundations,  right  to  the  outposts,  under  the  very 
noses  of  the  Boches. 

The  newcomers  received  a  hearty  welcome  and  de 
W and  I  stirred  up,  not  only  the  fire,  but  all  our 


Observers  305 

old  memories,  by  way  of  cheering  ourselves.  Whilst  we 
were  chatting,  his  two  companions  had  been  laying 
their  plans.  Frentzen  came  ambling  up  to  us,  scratch- 
ing the  back  of  his  neck. 

"Lieutenant,"  he  began,  "if  we  could  just  have  a 
look  in  at  the  little  farm  over  yonder?" 

"The farm?     That  one?     Why,  it's  full  of  Bochcs." 

"The  'Bosses'!"  exclaimed  Frentzen,  with  superb 
disdain.     "We  can  put  a  few  bullets  into  them. " 

De   W and   I  roared   with    laughter    at    his 

expression. 

"Right,"  said  my  friend.  "You  can  go,  but  be 
prudent." 

Snysters  favoured  me  with  a  wink  that  was  full  of 
eloquence  and  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly,  and 
the  two  men  set  out  on  their  expedition. 

An  hour  later  they  returned,  wet  through,  covered 
with  mud,  and  accusing  each  other  of  being  milksops, 
cowards,  and  using  various  other  complimentary 
epithets,  such  as  only  the  Flemish  language  can  render 
with  sufficient  emphasis.  Frentzen's  pocket  had  been 
pierced  by  a  bullet.  Snysters  had  had  one  through  his 
cap.  A  minute  or  two  later,  Snysters  went  out  of  the 
room  and  Frentzen  came  a  few  steps  nearer  and 
remarked,  confidentially: 

"Lieutenant,  Snysters,  he  doesn't  know  what  it 
means  to  be  afraid  of  anything,  but  he's  a  bit  .  .  ." 

Frentzen  winked  and  touched  his  own  forehead. 

"You  understand.  Lieutenant." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  him  well." 

Frentzen  went  away  and  when  Snysters  came  back, 
he  drew  his  chair  up  and  remarked: 

"Lieutenant,  that  Frentzen's  a  chap  with  plenty  of 
nerve,  but, "  hereupon  he  tapped  his  forehead  with 


3o6  Brave  Belgians 

a  knowing  expression,  "a  bit  touched  here,  you 
know." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know.  ..." 

A  little  while  later,  they  went  off  again,  arm  in 
arm,  insulting  each  other  more  than  ever,  but  on  the 
lookout   for   fresh   adventures. 

The  bombardment  recommenced  at  an  early  hour. 
It  began  with  volleys  of  77's,  those  miserable,  ridicu- 
lous 77's.  They  come  along  as  though  they  are 
going  to  smash  everything  before  them,  and  they 
finish  with  a  poor  Httle  "petch"  and  a  bit  of  pipe 
smoke. 

Parturiunt  monies,  nascetur  ridiculus  mus. 

Cornez,  my  youngster  from  Liege,  gave  a  whistling 
accompaniment.  Presently  the  song  changed  and 
the  105  arrived.  The  planks  of  wood  which  served 
as  window-shutters  were  flung  inside  the  room.  In 
front  of  the  building,  the  footbridge  was  pulverised. 
That  was  the  fifth  time  this  had  happened.  There 
would  be  no  chance  of  going  outside  and  keeping  our 
feet  dry  now.     Our  guns  answered. 

I  looked  out  at  the  firing  zone  and  was  pleased  to 
see  that  the  enemy  battery  was  well  encircled.  It 
continued  in  spite  of  this,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact,  we 
were  no  less  encircled  than  they  were. 

I  went  downstairs  to  go  to  the  telephone.  I  was 
only  just  there,  when  a  formidable  explosion  flung  a 
whole  collection  of  bricks  and  rubbish  behind  me 
and  I  was  in  the  midst  of  a  cloud  of  dust.  I  looked  up 
and  saw  that  there  was  nothing  left  of  my  observa- 
tion post.     A  huge  breach  in  the  wall  showed  where 

the  brutal  visitor  had  just  entered.      De  W came 

running  to  me,  delighted  to  see  me  whole. 

"I  fancy  there  are  too  many  prayers  being  said 


Observers  307 

for  you,"  he  remarked,  "for  the  shells  to  be  able  to 
touch  you." 

"I  have  been  vaccinated,"  I  replied. 
After  all  this,  we  had  a  good  night's  work  before  us, 
as  we  were  obliged  to  build  the  place  up  again.  And 
that  was  not  all.  That  satanic  105  was  warming  up 
with  its  work.  The  footbridge  was  smashed  in 
several  places.  It  would  be  difficult  for  the  relief  at 
night,  and,  by  way  of  a  climax,  the  telephone  was 
silent,  as  the  wire  was  cut.  Good,  we  were  completely 
isolated  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  For  the  moment 
there  was  nothing  to  be  done,  so  we  sat  down  and 
began  talking,  knowing  that  there  was  every  possi- 
bility of  our  conversation  finishing  up  above,  in  the 
presence  of  St.  Peter. 

Towards  noon,  there  was  a  lull  and  we  were  able 
to  repair  the  telephone  wire.  As  soon  as  we  were  in 
communication  once  more  with  our  comrades  in  the 
rear,  the  first  thing  they  asked  was  whether  we  were 
all  dead. 

We  then  cooked  some  more  sweet  potatoes,  put  the 
platform  up  again,  and  then  the  fete  began  once  more, 
and  this  time  continued  until  night. 

Just  when  it  was  beginning  to  grow  dark,  our 
telephone  wires  broke  again.  We  were  now  getting 
volleys  of  shrapnel,  which  continued  all  the  time, 
covering  the  ground  with  hurricanes  of  lead  and  iron. 
This  foreshadowed  an  attack.  I  thought  I  would  go 
and  have  a  look  at  the  trenches.  I  kept  slipping  on  the 
mud  and  went  splashing  through  pools  of  water  and 
tumbling  into  holes,  made  recently  by  the  shells, 
whilst  overhead  the  wretched  volleys  kept  bursting 
with  their  sharp,  dry  din  and,  at  my  feet,  the  bullets 
pierced  the  ground. 


3o8  Brave  Belgians 

In  front  of  us,  nothing  could  be  seen  moving.  The 
Lieutenant  in  command  of  this  post  was  on  his  guard, 
as  he  expected  an  attack.  The  night  was  getting 
quickly  heavy  and  dark,  so  that  very  soon  we  could 
distinguish  nothing  ten  yards  away  from  us.  Nothing 
could  be  seen  at  all  but  the  weird  flashes  which  kept 
lighting  up  the  darkness  on  all  sides,  and  these  seemed 
to  be  getting  more  and  more  furious.  "There  is 
nothing  to  fear,  at  present, "  I  said  to  my  comrade, 
"but  as  soon  as  the  firing  slackens,  we  must  keep  a 
sharp  lookout." 

"Lieutenant,  Lieutenant!"  I  suddenly  heard  from 
my  post. 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"Come  quick!" 

I  returned  as  quickly  as  possible.  There  was  no 
light,  but  a  huge  hole  in  the  ceiling  which  let  in  the 
cold  air.  On  the  floor,  among  all  the  rubbish,  lay  a 
man.  I  turned  my  light  on  the  face  and  saw  that  it 
was  my  brave  friend,  Snysters.  He  was  covered  with 
blood  which  was  still  smoking ;  a  huge  fragment  of  shell 
had  pierced  his  heart.  I  examined  him  to  see  whether 
he  were  really  dead  and  I  offered  up  a  prayer  to  God 
for  his  heroic  soul.  I  then  went  in  search  of  the 
others.  They  had  taken  refuge  in  a  trench.  De  W. 
was  wounded  in  the  wrist.  Cornez  was  still  dazed 
by  the  commotion,  and  Frentzen  was  growling  and 
swearing  in  a  low  voice. 

"Filthy  Bosses!  Wretched  pigs!  Poor  Snysters! 
Curse  them,  curse  them!" 

Towards  9  o'clock,  the  bombardment  suddenly 
slackened  and  the  Germans  extended  their  firing 
range.  A  minute  later,  there  was  shooting  from  our 
trenches,  and  the  Germans  fired  back  from  quite  near 


Observers 


309 


to  us.    Our  shooting  then  became  hurried  and  agitated. 

Attention  now  for  the  attack !  I  took  a  fuse  and  then 
went  to  our  line.  What  was  the  meaning  of  the 
disorder?  We  were  just  being  relieved.  "Halt! 
let  no  one  move  until  further  orders.  Every  man  in 
the  trenches." 

I  met  the  fresh  commander  of  the  post  and  we 
concerted  for  a  few  seconds.  Whilst  he  threw  a  fuse 
from  the  trench  to  the  left,  I  was  to  look  out  with  my 
field-glasses  at  the  trench  to  the  right,  which  appeared 
to  be  the  one  threatened.  The  fuse  was  thrown  and 
the  whole  country  round  was  bathed  in  a  bright  light. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  seen.  Not  a  man  appeared. 
But  as  I  knew  every  detail  of  the  land  by  heart,  I 
could  distinguish,  thirty  yards  in  front  of  us,  a  long 
line  of  little  heaps  that  had  been  newly  made. 

The  Boches  were  hollowing  out  the  ground  and 
were  burying  themselves  ready  for  the  assault.  I 
stopped  the  firing  and  ordered  absolute  silence.  In 
the  midst  of  the  darkness,  we  could  then  hear  dis- 
tinctly the  rough,  brief  orders  that  the  Commander 
of  the  attack  was  giving  in  a  low  voice.  Ah,  the  ras- 
cals, they  had  come  as  near  to  us  as  that!  Good,  we 
will  give  them  something  for  their  trouble.  With  the 
agreement  of  the  officer  in  command,  I  had  one  of  the 
two  machine-guns  brought  from  the  other  salient. 
I  then  looked  out  again  with  my  field-glasses;  a  faint 
moonbeam  now  lighted  up  the  ground.  I  could  see 
the  little  heaps  and  also  the  spades  that  were  moving 
the  earth.  Presently  a  shadow  could  be  seen  standing 
up  and  then  two,  three,  ten  figures.  I  indicated  the 
spot  to  the  gunner  and  he  took  aim. 

"Fire!" 

The  horrible  engine  of  war  did  its  work  and,  in  a 


310  Brave  Belgians 

trice,  it  had  mown  down  all  these  figures.  Five 
minutes  later,  some  more  figures  rose  and  these  too 
were  brought  down  by  the  machine-gun.  An  enemy 
machine-gun  now  replied  to  us,  but,  fortunately,  it 
fired  too  high  and  too  much  to  the  left.  For  three 
hours,  we  kept  this  game  up.  The  Germans  were 
nailed  to  the  ground,  and  each  time  they  attempted  to 
get  up,  they  were  swept  down  again  by  our  firing. 
Finally,  they  retired  and  disappeared,  crawling  along 
in  the  darkness. 

We  then  went  back  to  our  post.  A  never-to-be- 
forgotten  sight  awaited  us  there.  Snysters  was  lying 
in  the  middle  of  the  room.  His  face  was  turned  to  the 
sky  and  he  was  sleeping  his  long  sleep  under  a  beam  of 
light.  Just  above  his  head,  by  the  gaping  breach  in 
the  ceiling,  the  moon  shed  a  white  ray  which  sur- 
rounded his  face  with  a  halo  of  glory.  It  looked  very 
pure  and  very  peaceful,  and  left  all  the  rest  of  his 
body  hidden  in  dense  darkness.  I  have  never  seen  a 
finer  mortuary  than  the  one  which  the  heavens  had 
thus  raised  to  this  martyr  to  his  country.  Andl<,it 
seemed  to  me  that  the  soul  of  the  hero  had  risen 
gloriously,  in  this  beautiful  ray  of  light,  to  the  king- 
dom above. 

An  hour  later,  the  body  was  taken  away.  Frentzen 
wrapped  it  in  his  own  cloak,  because  it  was  a  better 
one  than  that  of  the  dead  man,  and  he  carried  it  out 
alone.  Whilst  he  was  digging  a  grave,  swearing  all 
the  time  between  his  teeth,  I  noticed  that  he  kept 
furtively  wiping  away  his  tears. 

When  he  had  finished  his  task,  he  came  back  to 
me. 

"Lieutenant,  "  he  said,  "I  knew  it  would  happen  to 
him.     I  alwa^^s  told  him  so.     He  was  always  swearing 


Observers  31^ 

like  the  devil,  it  was  sure  to  happen  to  him.  .  .  . 
Damn!     Damn!" 

And  swearing  away  now  for  two  men,  instead  of 
one,  he  went  on  growling  quietly. 

Before  the  dawn,  wc  had  again  repaired  the  damage. 
And  then  the  day  broke,  rosy  and  smiling,  in  the  limpid 
horizon,  lighting  up  a  pile  of  German  corpses  and  of 
ruins  in  the  midst  of  our  own  ruins.  And  when  I  had 
gone  up  to  my  post  once  more,  a  blackbird  came  and 
perched  on  the  top  of  the  roof  and  warbled  his  gay 
song  to  the  echoes.  I  understood  then  that  only  one 
thing  matters  in  our  existence,  and  that  is  to  so  order 
one's  soul  that,  high  up  in  the  ideal  azure,  it  shall  sing 
its  song  in  spite  of  the  storm.  It  must  be  a  soul 
which,  free  and  strong,  shall  continue  its  own  way, 
always  ready  for  any  struggle,  always  ready  for 
martyrdom,  and  always  ready  to  rise  heavenwards! 

''March,  191 5. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 
A  Patrol 

By  Artillery  Captain  M C 

Everything  looked  gay  that  morning  at  the  out- 
posts. The  big,  radiant  sun,  saturating  the  blue 
sky,  made  the  sheet  of  water  sparkle,  as  it  rippled 
along  with  silvery  spangles  right  up  to  the  enemy 
lines.  The  ruins  of  the  red  roofs  and  picturesque 
white  gables  had  quite  a  festive  air,  reflected  in  the 
lake  which  now  bathed  them.  They  seemed  sur^sed 
to  find  themselves  in  the  midst  of  these  moving 
meadows,  instead  of  in  the  green  meadows  in  which 
they  had  been  accustomed  to  slumber.  In  the  horizon 
could  be  seen  tints  of  periwinkle  and  lilac,  which 
seemed  to  be  smiling  to  the  deep  blue  of  the  sky. 

The  reality  of  things  was  by  no  means  so  jovial  as 
this  charming  setting.  The  violet,  huge  trees,  which 
looked  so  beautiful  over  yonder,  concealed  batteries 
which  would  presently  send  out  death  amongst  us. 
The  gay,  white  gables  had  little  loopholes  where 
wicked  guns  and  machine-guns  were  waiting  in 
readiness.  And,  under  the  silvery  ripples  of  the  great, 
greenish  lake,  there  were  corpses  hidden,  and  ruined 
harvests  rotting  in  the  water.  Unhappy  the  human 
being  who  ventured  out  into  the  inundated  meadows ! 

312 


A  Patrol  313 

He  would  be  caught  in  the  deep,  slimy  mud,  in  the 
barbed  wire,  in  the  numberless  canals  which  furrowed 
the  whole  district,  and  which  were  treacherously 
concealed  under  great  tufts  of  reeds.  In  a  very 
short  time,  bullets  and  shrapnels  would  whistle  round 
his  ears  as  warning  precursors  of  death. 

Just  at  the  edge  of  the  inundation,  two  soldiers  were 
talking  together,  as  they  examined  the  big  farm 
emerging  from  the  water,  six  hundred  yards  to  the 
north  of  the  post. 

"I  tell  you  there  is  no  one  inside.  There's  nothing 
left  but  the  loopholes." 

"One  never  knows  with  these  wretches." 
"The  only  thing  is  to  go  and  see." 
"The  Sergeant  says  that  the  Major,  he'd  like  to 
know  what's  inside  that  farm." 

"Well  then  the  only  thing  is  to  go  and  see." 
"Come  on  then." 

They  went  in  search  of  the  Lieutenant. 
"Lieutenant,  can  we  go  out  on  patrol  round  the 

N Farm  and  have  a  look  to  see  whether  there's 

any  Boches  inside?" 

"On  patrol  ...  in  a  boat  you  mean?" 
"We'd  make  our  plans.  Lieutenant." 
The  Lieutenant  was  silent  a  minute.     That  farm 
puzzled  him  too,  but  he  was  anxious  about  the  lives 
of  his  men. 

"It's  too  dangerous,"  he  replied,  and  soon  after  he 
moved  away.     The  two  men  looked  at  each  other. 
"Hedidn't  say  No." 

"He  said  it  was  dangerous.     We  know  that." 
"Let's  go  then,  shall  we?" 
"Yes,  we'll  go." 
They  spotted  a  big  tub  lying  in  a  yard.     They 


314  Brave  Belgians 

emptied  it,  put  it  on  the  water,  and  set  off,  each  one 
armed  with  his  gun  and  a  pole.  The  first  one,  on 
getting  in,  had  some  difficulty  in  balancing  himself, 
but  for  the  second  one  it  was  still  more  difficult. 
The  tub  tossed  about,  threatening  to  turn  upside 
down.  Finally  they  managed  to  steady  it,  and  they 
then  set  sail.  With  one  pole  they  pushed  against  the 
bank,  and  with  the  other  they  steadied  themselves 
in  the  muddy  lake.  The  tub  then  moved  on  heavily 
and  awkwardly,  leaning  first  suddenly  to  the  right, 
then  to  the  left,  and  then  spinning  round  an  invisible 
rotation  axis.  Our  patrol  was  now  upset  into  the 
water,  and  the  confounded  tub,  as  though  proud  of  its 
exploit,  danced  about  on  the  ripples  with  a  contented 
air. 

Our  two  poor  rabbits  had  a  struggle.  They  managed 
to  keep  their  guns  above  water  and,  on  coming  to 
land,  they  looked  at  each  other  and  burst  out  laughing. 
It  was  evidently  impossible  for  two  of  them  to  get 
along  in  that  tub.  They  went  in  search  of  something 
else  and  presently  came  back  with  a  trough.  This 
was  put  on  the  water  by  the  side  of  the  tub.  They 
each  took  their  place,  with  the  manoeuvres  of  tight- 
rope walkers,  and  the  squadron  set  out  to  sea.  The 
two  ships  sailed  along  in  the  most  alarming  way. 
The  tub,  not  satisfied  with  leaning  down,  first  on  one 
side  and  then  on  the  other,  jumped  about  with  the 
agility  of  a  stag,  in  the  direction  of  all  the  cardinal 
points,  and  seemed  to  take  the  greatest  pleasure  in 
spinning  round  with  such  speed  that  it  looked  as 
though  it  were  wound  up  and  would  never  stop  again. 
The  unfortunate  sailor  plunged  his  pole  in  the  mud. 
The  obstinate  skifif  calmed  down,  pretended  to  stop, 
thought  it  over  a  second,  and  then  started  off  in  the 


A  Patrol  315 

contrary  way,  with  its  horrible  spinning  movement. 
The  pole  was  plunged  in  again,  farther  on.  The  tub 
stopped  short,  darted  into  an  eddy,  and  disappeared 
in  the  water.  We,  who  were  watching,  uttered  a 
cry  of  fear.  Ah,  the  tub  was  back  again,  it  had  only 
been  a  pretence.  It  went  on  its  way  once  more, 
turning  about  all  the  time,  more  and  more  turbulent 
and  more  and  more  incoherent. 

As  to  the  trough,  that  was  still  more  awful.  It 
made  me  giddy  to  look  at  it.  The  pilot's  pole  had  to 
do  service  as  pole,  oar,  and  beam.  As  it  was  absolutely 
incapable  of  performing  all  these  functions  at  the 
same  time,  the  trough  had  fine  sport  and  made  the 
most  of  it.  It  went  along  with  such  bounds  and  leaps 
that  each  time  it  seemed  as  though  it  were  turning 
right  over  and  plunging  under  the  water.  It  went 
on  more  and  more  quickly,  always  by  fits  and  starts, 
and  in  the  most  irregular  way  possible.  The  wretched 
pole  had  to  keep  striking  the  water  in  ever>'  way 
possible,  splashing  and  dabbling  in  an  agitated,  in- 
coherent manner,  and  so  quickly  that  it  looked  like 
the  fingers  of  a  compass  out  of  order. 

Its  poor  Captain,  who  was  still  in  the  trough,  was 
tossed  about  all  the  time.  He  never  ceased  to  brandish 
his  giddy  pole,  except  when  he  was  emptying  the 
water  out  of  his  death-trap  with  a  saucepan. 

The  two  men  were  making  headway,  nevertheless, 
with  the  tub  turning  round  and  round,  and  the 
trough  leaping  and  bounding,  both  of  them  dancing 
wild  waltzes.  The  tub,  thanks  to  a  few  vigorous 
strokes,  got  ahead.  The  trough  followed  with  great 
difficulty,  but,  presently,  its  pilot  managed  to  set  it 
going  and,  with  a  few  energetic  strokes  with  his  pole- 
oar,  he  too  gained  ground,  came  up  with  his  rival,  who 


3i6  Brave  Belgians 

appeared  to  be  in  distress,  and  then  passed  by  him 
with  ease. 

They  were  a  good  distance  from  us  now  and  we  held 
our  breath  as  we  watched  them.  One  or  the  other 
kept  disappearing  every  minute,  apparently  sinking 
straight  to  the  bottom.  Finally  the  trough,  which  was 
certainly  the  stronger  of  the  two,  approached  the 
coast!  A  few  more  strokes  of  the  oar  and  it  had 
landed  at  the  edge  of  the  green  islet.  As  to  the  tub, 
it  leapt,  rocked,  and  spun  round  in  a  way  that  would 
have  made  a  demon  shudder.  Finally,  it  ran  aground 
on  a  mud  bank.  The  man  landed  in  the  water, 
wallowed  in  the  mud,  freed  himself,  set  his  barque 
afloat  again,  but  it  was  quite  a  drama  to  re-embark  in 
it,  in  the  midst  of  the  "sea."  He  managed  this, 
though,  and  he  finally  crossed  without  any  further 
accident.     We  breathed  freely  once  more. 

The  two  patrols  examined  the  land,  consulted  for  a 
moment,  and  then  advanced  towards  the  mysterious 
farm.  There  was  no  sign  of  life,  but  we  trembled  for 
them,  as  we  knew  the  ways  of  the  Boches.  They 
were  now  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  quiet-looking 
building,  when,  suddenly,  they  were  saluted  by  bullets 
from  invisible  holes.  The  farm  was  occupied  then. 
The  object  of  their  expedition  was  attained  and  we 
expected  that  our  men  would  now  come  crawling 
back.  Not  at  all !  They  were  crawling,  but  it  was  in 
the  direction  of  the  German  trench,  which  ran  to 
the  right  of  the  farm  along  the  strip  of  land.  They 
did  not  care  to  have  taken  such  a  long  trip  for  nothing 
and  they  thought  they  might  as  well  see  whether  the 
trench  was  occupied  too.  They  approached  it 
slowly  and  cautiously,  looking  up  occasionally  to  see 
whether  anything  moved.    They  reached  the  parapet, 


A  Patrol  317 

stopped  a  second,  and  then,  striding  over  it,  dis- 
appeared. At  my  side  I  heard  a  man  whisper :  "They 
must  be  mad!" 

"Ping!  Pang!"  we  heard  in  the  trench.  This  time 
the  daring  fellows  must  certainly  have  been  taken 
prisoners.  Not  so,  though.  We  saw  them  suddenly 
emerge,  like  two  jack-in-the-boxes,  jump  down  the 
bank,  and  crawl  on  all  fours,  with  the  speed  of  two 
lizards  running  through  the  grass.  Only  their  guns 
were  then  visible,  swaying  with  a  quick  movement 
like  two  pendulums.  The  men  themselves  were  so 
fiat  down  in  the  mud  that  they  soon  looked  like  two 
liunps  of  mud  being  moved  by  an  invisible  hand. 
From  time  to  time,  after  a  sharp  volley,  one  of  them 
would  remain  still  and  apparently  lifeless.  Had  he 
been  hit,  we  wondered?  No,  he  was  only  pretending 
to  be  dead  and,  a  minute  later,  he  started  again, 
going  along  more  quickly  still.  After  a  good  quarter 
of  an  hour  of  this  alarming  chase,  they  reached 
the  water.  They  waited  five  minutes  and  then,  with 
a  jump,  each  one  seized  his  "boat,"  got  into  it,  and 
once  more  set  off  waltzing,  twisting,  and  turning, 
under  a  shower  of  bullets.  Twenty  times  over  they 
escaped  death  and  finally,  wet  through,  perspiring, 
covered  with  slime  and  moss,  as  sturdy  as  two  Nep- 
tunes,  they  landed,  and  going  straight  up  to  their  Lieu- 
tenant, laughing  as  they  went,  they  gave  in  the  result 
of  their  expedition. 

"The  farm  is  occupied  and  the  trench  too,"  was 
all  they  said. 

"I  can  see  that  for  myself,  on  looking  at  you  two, 
by  Jingo!" 

The  officer,  torn  between  anger  and  admiration, 
did  not  know  whether  he  ought  to  blame  them  or 


31 8  Brave  Belgians 

praise  them.  He  did  a  little  of  each  and  our  dare- 
devils, a  trifle  ashamed  of  being  "pitched  into,"  but 
very  well  satisfied  with  their  exploit,  went  off  to  wash 
their  clothes  and  dry  themselves  in  the  sun,  which 
was  now  smiling  on  them. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 
The  Death  March 

By  Doctor  Duwez,  Army  Surgeon  to  the  Regiment  of 
Grenadiers 

There  is  very  little  improvement  in  the  situation. 
The  Germans  are  holding  the  trenches  from  Het-Sas 
as  far  as  Steenstraete.  Their  attacks  are  getting  more 
frequent.  To-night,  the  Zouaves  are  to  attack  Li- 
zerne. 

At  the  present  moment,  all  our  batteries  are  raging. 
It  is  six  o'clock  in  the  evening.  The  75's  are  yelling 
at  short  intervals.  Our  seven-fives,  with  the  noise  of 
anvils,  send  out  their  volleys  into  the  vibrating  air, 
with  a  piercing,  shrill  whistle. 

We  saw  Pypegale,  with  its  ruined  houses.  English 
couriers,  concealed  here  and  there,  watched  us  pass 
by.  To  the  left,  the  green  plain  stretched  out  before 
us  as  far  as  the  tall  trees  of  Kemmelbecck.  They 
were  standing  in  groups,  with  their  branches  still 
bare.  Farther  away  were  hedges  and  little  gardens, 
and  in  the  corner,  where  the  valley  is  cut  into  two  by 
the  road,  in  the  midst  of  the  green  coppices,  were 
pear-trees  covered  with  blossom.  We  could  see  the 
red  roofs  of  the  little  village  of  Zuydschoote,  with 
its  white  church  all  charred. 

The  big  German  shells  were  falling  all  the  time  on 
319 


320  Brave  Belgians 

these  wooded  places.  Great  black  convolutions  rose 
in  the  air  in  balls,  or,  if  the  shell  burst  in  the  houses, 
the  pink  dust  of  the  pulverised  tiles  could  then  be 
seen.  We  could  hear  the  roofs  cracking,  the  walls 
giving  way,  and  the  beams  falling  down. 

Above  the  road  occupied  by  the  column,  the  white 
clouds  of  the  little  shrapnels  were  rising.  They  stood 
out  clearly  against  the  clear  blue  sky.  The  wind 
stretched  them  gently  out,  changed  their  shapes,  and 
wafted  them  towards  us.  Farther  still,  the  horizon 
was  gradually  veiled  in  a  mist  composed  of  smoke, 
rubbish,  and  dust. 

On  our  left  was  the  farm,  to  which  this  road  led. 
We  passed  through  the  devastated  bam.  Balls  began 
to  whistle  and  crash  against  the  walls.  The  windows 
had  no  panes  and  the  rooms  were  full  of  rubbish  and 
rotten  straw.  A  Grenadier  dragged  himself  along 
towards  us,  his  face  drawn  and  his  forehead  covered 
with  cold  perspiration.  His  trousers  were  sticking  to 
one  of  his  legs  with  blood,  and,  on  cutting  them  away, 
a  big  wound  was  to  be  seen  with  a  dark  background, 
formed  by  the  muscles,  and  a  long,  red  stream  which 
was  trickling  down.  Next  arrived  a  Zouave,  short 
and  broad-backed.  He  came  along  merrily,  support- 
ing his  arm  which  he  showed  us. 

"I  think  they've  broken  it  this  time,  the  pigs!" 
he  said,  with  a  Marseilles  accent.  "They  had  me, 
anyhow. "  He  spoke  with  great  eloquence,  gesticu- 
lating energetically.  When  his  arm  was  dressed,  he 
tiu-ned  suddenly  pale  and  was  silent,  as  he  leaned  for 
support  against  the  wall. 

We  looked  out  to  see  where  we  should  cross  the 
fiery  barrier.  Every  man  gave  his  opinion  on  the 
matter.    The  Zouaves  over  yonder  were  going  along. 


The  Death  March  321 

in  single  file,  near  the  hedges,  in  the  direction  of 
Zuydschootc.  We  could  see  their  yellow  jackets  and 
the  blue  veiling  covering  their  chkhias.  Holding 
their  guns  in  their  hands,  they  were  advancing 
cautiously,  hiding  like  Indians  on  the  war-path. 

As  we  approached  Kcmmclbeeck,  the  bullets 
whistled,  snapped,  and  whined  more  than  ever.  We 
saw  the  footbridges,  the  sentinel's  niche,  all  covered 
with  grass,  and  the  big,  bare  trees,  with  their  out- 
stretched arms.  All  along  the  coppice,  in  the  ditches, 
the  Grenadiers,  with  dark  coats  and  red  badges  on 
their  collars,  could  be  seen  lying  down  among  the 
Zouaves  in  their  light  costumes.  To  our  right,  the 
farm  in  ruins,  with  nothing  but  fragments  of  walls, 
level  with  the  ground,  was  hiding  its  bricks  in  the 
grasses.  The  zone  here  was  fired  on  to  such  a  degree 
that  it  was  wiser  to  hasten  along.  We  had  to  cross 
the  road  in  order  to  reach  the  little  guard-house. 
This  was  sheltering  a  whole  group  of  soldiers,  who 
were  in  the  garden  taking  refuge  near  the  walls  and 
among  the  green  plants  and  tufts  of  jonquils.  Their 
uniforms  stood  out  in  vivid  colours,  all  the  more  vivid 
as  the  sun  was  sinking  in  the  horizon. 

The  little  house  was  intact  and  this  was  a  miracle. 
The  men  were  chattering  like  magpies.  They  were 
relating  all  kinds  of  exploits  amidst  the  din  of  the 
battle.  Those  near  the  walls  were  crouching  down 
close  to  each  other.  The  others  were  lying  flat  down. 
The  wounded  had  taken  refuge  inside  the  house. 

Two  small  rooms  were  full,  and  the  wounded  were 
lying  down  on  straw.  One  of  these,  a  Grenadier,  was 
near  the  wall.  He  was  dying  from  a  bullet  in  his 
head.  A  Zouave,  crouching  in  a  comer,  was  pressing 
his  arm  against  his  breast.    He  did  not  speak  and  was 


322  Brave  Belgians 

gazing  with  a  fixed  stare  in  front  of  him.  Others  were 
tossing  about  and  moaning.  The  floor  was  strewn 
with  bandages  covered  with  blood,  with  scraps  of 
dirty  uniforms,  with  knapsacks,  guns,  and  bayonets. 
A  hand  that  was  stretched  out  towards  me  had  the 
fingers  almost  torn  off.  A  young  Corporal,  very  plain- 
looking,  with  dark  hair,  his  moustache  cut  in  brush 
fashion,  and  with  twinkling  eyes,  was  joking  at  his 
own  expense,  as  he  pointed  to  his  wound.  "What 
am  I  going  to  do,"  he  asked,  "for  I  cannot  sit  down 
again?"  In  the  adjoining  room,  there  were  more 
wounded  men,  all  crowded  together.  The  army 
chaplain,  in  one  corner,  was  giving  the  absolution. 
Two  officers  were  taking  their  supper  at  a  table, 
whilst  reading  their  orders.  Coming  out  from  under 
this  table,  could  be  seen  the  iron-tipped  boots  of  a 
dying  man. 

"Doctor,  Doctor,  am  I  going  to  be  left  here?" 

Moans  could  be  heard  on  all  sides  and  everyone 
was  talking  at  the  same  time.  It  was  a  mixture  of 
languages,  in  which  slang  and  Flemish  predominated. 

"My  bandage  is  torn.  Doctor;  I  am  losing  all  my 
blood!" 

There  was  a  poor  fellow  whose  leg  had  been  nearly 
blown  off;  another  one,  bent  double,  was  leaning  his 
head  against  the  wall.  Another  man  had  his  head 
bandaged  and  bleeding. 

"I  was  advancing,"  he  said,  "the  first  of  the 
section,  when  all  at  once  I  felt  a  shock." 

He  gesticulated  with  his  dry  hand,  trying  to  explain 
what  had  happened.  There  were  many  others  in  a 
similar  plight.  It  was  getting  dark  and  the  red  wounds 
looked  black  in  the  darkness,  and  the  expression  in 
the  men's  eyes  seemed  more  profound.    A  candle  was 


The  Death  March  323 

lighted  and  the  shadows  on  the  wall  now  grew  longer 
and  looked  enormous.  A  wounded  man,  in  a  corner 
of  the  room,  had  just  ceased  suffering.  His  eyes  were 
wide  open  staring  fixedly  at  the  room. 

From  the  windows,  the  green  light  of  the  shrapnels 
and  the  red  flames  of  the  shells  lit  up  the  darkness 
with  sudden  flashes.  Tiles  kept  falling  and  Itunps  of 
earth  thudding  against  the  roof.  A  strange  heaviness 
weighed  on  everyone,  numbing  the  brain  and  drying 
the  eyes.  Was  it  fatigue  or  torpor  ?  No,  it  was  some- 
thing indescribable. 

Outside,  the  human  bunch  was  still  there.  To  the 
right  could  be  heard  the  regular  tac-tac  of  a  machine- 
gun. 

"Ah  the  animals!"  cried  a  Zouave,  shaking  his  fist. 
"We  shall  have  them,  though,  just  now,  with  the 
bayonet!" 

Shells  went  whizzing  over  the  house,  exploding  in 
the  coppices  with  a  whooping  noise.  Then  came  the 
heavier,  jerky  whizz  of  the  big  "Fifteens,"  Ram  .  .  . 
ram  .  .  .  ram!  They  exploded  and  kept  coming  in 
threes,  at  regular  intervals.  From  one  minute  to 
another  the  great  glow  might  appear,  the  final 
destruction  which  would  send  all  our  hvunan  islet  to 
its  death. 

Our  first  line  trenches  were  over  yonder.  There 
was  the  Lizerne  Mill.  The  village  was  to  the  right. 
The  ground  looked  black,  the  plain  was  lighted  by  the 
moon,  so  that  one  could  see  a  heap  of  bricks  which 
reminded  one  of  the  Mill.  In  October,  we  had  seen 
it  in  all  its  glory,  with  its  sails  in  the  form  of  a  cross. 
Through  the  cloud  of  dust  which  rose  from  the 
battle-field,  lighted  up  by  the  shrapnels  which  kept 
rending  the  darkness,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  wan 


324  Brave  Belgians 

light,  the  scene  before  us  looked  like  a  dream  picture. 
We  could  see  the  spot  we  wanted  to  reach.  With  our 
eyes  fixed  on  it,  we  went  along  as  though  hypnotised. 
Over  there  was  the  hill-top  that  had  been  laid  waste, 
the  accursed  spot  where  craters  had  been  made  in 
every  direction. 

Bullets  were  whizzing  through  the  air  and  clods 
of  earth  kept  falling  with  heavy  thuds.  Fragments 
of  shells  kept  burjnng  themselves  with  a  whirring 
sound.  Onward,  onward,  we  must  get  there!  As  we 
advanced,  the  outline  of  the  spot  we  were  aiming  at 
grew  bigger  and  bigger.  We  kept  stumbling,  falling 
down  and  getting  up  again.  Now  we  saw  the  house 
all  in  ruins,  the  hill  on  which  the  mill  had  stood  before 
it  fell  in.  A  shelter  had  now  been  dug  in  the  hill. 
I  pushed  the  door  open,  a  whiff  of  hot  air  nearly 
choked  me,  the  light  dazzled  me  and,  in  the  heavy 
atmosphere,  I  could  scarcely  recognise  any  faces. 
There  were  about  twenty  men  there,  some  wounded, 
who  were  waiting,  and  officers  who  were  there  at  their 
posts.  We  had  to  go  still  farther  on  than  this.  We 
could  stay  only  long  enough  to  exchange  a  few  words, 
and  then,  shaking  hands,  we  said  "Adieu!  Good 
luck!"     How  many  of  us  would  never  return! 

It  was  now  the  last  stage  of  our  journey.  There 
was  a  communication  trench  here.  We  glided  along, 
sheltering  near  the  house,  dark  shadows  in  the  night. 
The  trench  had  been  blocked  and  was  almost  de- 
stroyed. We  had  to  climb  on  heaps  of  sand,  stride 
over,  jump  and  then  let  ourselves  fall  again  into  the 
holes.  It  was  a  labyrinth  of  fragments  of  walls,  and 
of  moving  earth,  above  which  tall,  branchless  trees 
stood  up  like  black  skeletons.  Shells  kept  coming 
regularly,  every  quarter  of  a  minute.     Between  every 


The  Death  March  325 

explosion  we  ran,  hurryinj;  forward.  Our  hearts 
were  beating  fast.  The  bullets  kept  snapping.  We 
did  not  think  of  death.  Our  one  idea  was  to  arrive, 
to  advance.  It  was  a  deadly  race.  And  then  the 
odour  that  rose  to  our  nostrils,  at  the  same  time  as 
the  odour  of  the  powder,  became  stronger  and  stronger. 

At  last  we  came  to  YperlcSc,  to  the  footbridge. 
Only  a  rush  now  and  we  shall  be  on  sheltered  ground. 

The  tree  that  used  to  be  there  is  split  up.  Its  dark 
branches  were  all  intertwined  as  they  fell,  and  we 
could  see  the  white  of  its  sap-wood,  with  its  enormous 
prickles.  On  the  ground  were  four  Zouaves.  One 
of  them  was  crouching  down,  with  his  gim  between  his 
legs  and  his  head  on  his  chest.  The  others  were  lying 
down,  as  though  they  were  asleep.  And  that  terrible 
odour  became  persistent.  Agreeable  at  first,  some- 
thing like  jasmine,  it  finally  became  sickening.  It 
had  been  pursuing  us  for  a  long  time,  and,  at  times,  it 
was  most  violent.  The  band  seemed  to  be  tightening 
round  our  temples.  Our  eyes  were  burning  and  tears 
were  running  down  our  cheeks.  There  were  little 
drops  of  moisture  in  the  air  which  settled  on  us. 

Here  was  the  trench,  and  the  moon  made  the 
shadows  seem  enormous.  The  sudden  gleam  from  the 
shrapnels  rent  the  darkness  overhead.  The  shells 
yelled  as  they  passed  heavily  along.  It  was  as  though 
they  found  it  difficult  to  advance.  Suddenly  some 
"seventy-fives"  rushed  along.  They  ceased  and  then 
began  again  wildly.  The  horizon  was  brilliant  with 
sudden  flashes.  In  the  distance  we  could  hear  the 
stifled  "Boom!"  of  the  big  cannons,  the  bell-like 
sound  of  the  380  which  went  on  and  on.  The  cannon- 
ading became  slower  and  we  thought  it  was  stopping, 
but,    after   a  moment's  silence,   one   cannon   began 


326  Brave  Belgians 

again,  then  another,  and  then  all  of  them  together. 
Our  Grenadiers  were  there,  lying  on  the  parapets, 
crouching  in  the  trenches,  big,  dark  shadows  on  their 
still  greyer  sacks.  They  fired.  Bullets  smashed  into 
the  sacks,  into  the  earth  and  the  trees.  Shadows  could 
be  seen  gliding  about,  men  bending  double,  with  their 
guns  in  their  hands.  On  the  right,  a  great,  red  light 
was  to  be  seen,  gradually  covering  all  the  sky.  Ypres 
was  burning.  The  ruins  of  Ypres  were  in  flames. 
The  bullets  sang  and  whined.  Others  plunged  into  the 
bluish  darkness  with  a  reverberating  noise.  They 
went  a  long  way  and  then  suddenly  ended  in  the 
ground.  They  came  from  the  front,  from  the  back, 
from  everywhere.  A  fuse  came  down  from  the  sky,  a 
green  star  lighting  up  the  trench  with  an  unnatural 
light,  like  a  diabolical  smile.  The  whizzing  began 
again.  Shrapnels  burst  with  their  greenish  light, 
again  and  again,  and  all  the  time.  It  was  a  wonderful 
and  terrible  hour.  Flanders  was  bleeding  from  all  her 
veins.    But  no  matter,  the  Germans  did  not  pass ! 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 
Shelter  D.  A. 

By  Dr.  Duwez,  Army  Surgeon  to  the  Regiment  of 
Grenadiers 

In  the  low  room  of  the  farmhouse,  with  its  dingy 
ceiling  supported  by  oak  beams,  everyone  was  listen- 
ing in  silence.  The  Germans  had  lost  Lizeme,  but 
they  were  still  holding  out  on  this  side  of  the  water: 
Het-sas  and  Steenstraete.  This  evening,  the  Bat- 
talion was  to  occupy  a  transversal  position,  behind  the 
telegraph  pole  opposite  the  bridge-head.  The  officers, 
in  their  dark  uniforms,  were  standing  up.  In  the  dim 
light,  their  faces  looked  paler  than  usual.  Their 
brass  buttons  and  their  stars  shone.  Through  the 
curtains  of  the  windows  we  could  see  the  green 
landscape.  Only  those  who  had  passed  through  the 
Lizerne  hell  could  imagine  the  impression  caused  by 
the  idea  of  returning  to  it. 

All  day  long,  the  cannon  had  been  roaring,  making 
the  window-panes  rattle.  A  few  shells  had  come  as 
far  as  our  farm  and  killed  a  Grenadier.  I  had  seen 
him  near  the  hedge.  He  was  stretched  on  the  ground, 
his  skull  broken  in,  his  white  face  framed  by  the  blood 
from  his  forehead.  Not  far  from  him  the  dry,  ploughed 
ground  had  been  lacerated.  A  man,  spade  in  hand, 
was  looking  for  the  head  of  the  shell. 

327 


328  Brave  Belgians 

Our  departure  took  place  in  silence.  In  the  dim 
light,  our  men's  red  badges  stood  out  vividly.  They 
went  along  in  Indian  file  by  a  path  in  the  wood. 
Their  heavy  tread  could  be  heard  as  they  crossed  the 
footbridge.  They  marched  on.  The  black  farms,  in 
the  darkness,  looked  fantastic.  There  were  hedges, 
rows  of  willow-trees,  and  desolate  houses.  The  frame- 
work of  only  a  few  of  these  was  still  standing.  Tiles 
cracked  under  our  feet.  Then  there  were  paths  on 
which  our  dark  shadows  fell  side  by  side  with  the 
poplar  trees.  From  time  to  time,  we  heard  the  clatter 
of  a  metal  cup  or  a  stealthy  tread  on  the  grass,  like 
that  of  an  animal  going  to  the  river  at  night.  The 
moon  shone  very  faintly  and  the  stars  looked  like 
silver  nails. 

A  few  bullets  sang  round  our  ears.  One  of  our 
fuses  rushed  into  the  darkness  with  a  long,  whistling 
sound.  The  white  star  stood  out  shining  over  the 
landscape  and  making  it  look  elysian. 

We  now  came  to  the  trench,  with  its  heaps  of  sacks 
and  up-turned  earth.  The  traces  of  the  struggle 
were  still  visible.  Whole  trees  had  been  felled  down 
on  the  parapet  and  were  now  lying,  split  open,  their 
beams  in  the  air.  We  penetrated  into  a  new  domain, 
gliding  along  in  the  deep  passages.  From  time  to  time 
a  fuse  came  down  with  a  greenish  light  and  a  graceful, 
curving  movement.  It  lighted  up  the  tops  of  the 
trees  and  then  searched  the  coppices.  The  shadows 
moved  about  again,  stretched  themselves  out  and 
then  again  all  was  darkness,  the  darkness  to  which  our 
eyes  had  once  more  to  get  accustomed.  We  saw 
some  soldiers  wearing  blue  coats  among  our  men. 
They  were  the  brave  fellows  of  the  135th.  We  could 
scarcely   distinguish   them  from   the   others.     They 


Shelter  D.  A.  329 

hollowed  out  niches  for  themselves  in  the  bank  and 
crouched  right  down  in  these  shelters,  with  their 
heads  almost  buried  in  the  bank.  They  were  there 
pele-mele,  the  dead  and  the  living.  Those  who  were 
sitting  had  their  guns  between  their  legs  and  were 
dozing.     We  knocked  against  one  of  them  in  passing. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  exclaimed.  "Are  we 
going  to  the  assault?"  And  he  was  up  and  ready  at 
once. 

The  tall  outlines  of  the  trees  now  stood  out  against 
the  sky.  We  had  reached  the  entrance  of  the  com- 
munication trench.  Just  as  we  were  crossing  the 
little  bridge,  something  luminous  burst  over  us  and 
we  suddenly  heard  the  fizzling  of  a  storm  of  bullets. 
We  had  only  just  time  to  lie  down  flat  and  wait  till 
the  hurricane  was  over.  The  darkness  then  returned. 
One  by  one,  we  entered  the  labyrinth  of  mud  and  of 
crumbling  parapets.  A  prop  had  been  made  out  of  the 
ruins  of  a  farmhouse,  which  had  been  razed  to  the 
ground.  These  ruins  did  not  look  like  any  other  ruins. 
Among  the  dark  coppices,  the  scattered  stones  looked 
like  white  patches. 

Our  shelter  was  composed  of  a  number  of  small 
wooden  boxes,  half  covered  with  earth.  In  the 
bluish  light  of  night,  our  outlines  looked  enormous. 
The  moon  lighted  up,  with  a  vague  gleam,  this 
devastated  space,  where  the  shattered,  broken- 
branched  trees  added  their  cataleptic  attitudes  to  the 
general  desolation.  Around  the  shelters,  many  of 
which  were  no  more  than  tangled  rubbish,  about 
fifteen  dead  bodies  were  lying  crushed  on  the  ground. 
In  the  background  was  the  Lizerne  Mill.  A  jagged 
outline  could  be  seen  standing  out  against  the  sky. 

Our  men  were  wandering  about  trying  to  find  a 


330  Brave  Belgians 

place.  At  the  bottom  of  a  hole,  the  yellowish  light  of 
a  candle  could  be  seen,  but  it  was  soon  extinguished. 
The  ambulance  men  were  burying  the  nearest  of  the 
dead.  The  Chaplain,  who  looked  like  a  dark  shadow 
in  the  moonlight,  offered  up  a  prayer.  It  was  in  this 
spot  that  we  were  to  live  for  the  next  three  days. 

Our  men  huddled  together  on  planks  of  wood  with  a 
slight  layer  of  straw.  Each  one  rolled  himself  up  in 
his  blanket  and  wedged  himself  into  his  comer. 
Everyone  was  silent.  Through  the  open  door  could 
be  seen  the  pale  blue  of  the  sky  with  two  stars  shining 
in  it.  In  the  distance,  the  big  cannons  were  booming 
all  the  time.  We  tried  to  go  on  sleeping  as  long  as 
possible,  stiff  though  we  were.  The  sun  had  already 
risen.  The  square  of  the  sky  which  could  be  seen 
through  the  open  door  had  gradually  become  a 
square  of  light.  Death  had  not  come  to  us  during 
the  night. 

The  sun  was  warm  and  we  lay  down  on  the  bare 
ground  behind  the  shelter,  like  so  many  lizards. 
The  kindly  golden  light  chased  away  all  bitterness  and 
fatigue.  Under  our  feet,  the  bodies  which  had  only 
just  been  buried  gave  a  sensation  of  elasticity  to  the 
ground.  The  full  daylight  took  away  the  phantas- 
magoria! appearance  of  ever3^thing,  and  our  shelters 
appeared  in  their  true  aspect,  wretched  boxes,  made 
of  pinewood  half  covered  with  tufts  of  grass. 

The  ground  all  around  us  was  hollowed  out  in 
enormous  craters,  several  of  which  were  quite  close  to 
us.  A  field  all  yellow  with  turnips  in  flower  crowned 
the  simimit,  the  rest  was  nothing  but  brown  earth. 

A  few  men  at  work  passed  along  by  the  hedge. 
One  by  one  they  ran  along,  bending  nearly  double. 
They  passed  near  to  us,  making  straight  for  the  top  of 


Shelter  D.  A.  33  r 

the  hill.  Little  clouds  of  dust,  made  by  bullets,  kept 
rising  at  their  feet.  Their  coats  could  be  seen  minRlinK 
with  the  yellowish-green  of  the  turnip  field.  They 
then  disappeared  among  the  flowers. 

Towards  two  o'clock  the  cannonading  commenced. 
The  seventy-fives  thundered  without  ceasing.  Our 
seven-fives  accompanied  them.  Very  soon  the  Ger- 
mans began  to  do  their  part,  and  their  tens  exploded 
with  a  noise  that  rent  the  air.  Next  came  the  wild- 
beast  yelling  of  the  shrapnels  rushing  on  to  the 
batteries,  the  dull  noise  of  the  heavy  block-trains,  the 
whizzing  of  our  own  shells,  which  passed  quite  near  to 
us  and  then  went  on  rapidly  to  lacerate  our  enemies 
in  their  dens.  Then  came  the  bell-like  sound  of  the 
English  howitzers,  the  fantastical  dance  of  the  seventy- 
five  shells,  striking  their  wild  chords  on  the  trenches, 
the  yelling  whistle  of  the  heavy  shells  which  soon 
began  to  fall  on  the  plateau.  They  exploded  near  to 
us,  with  a  heavy  crashing  din.  The  rubbish  whirled 
round  in  the  air  with  harmonious  songs.  The  bursting 
of  certain  German  shrapnels  was  accompanied  by  a 
hubbub  like  the  cries  of  wounded  men.  And  then 
once  more  came  the  big  shells.  The  sky  was  darkened 
by  the  clouds  of  black  dust  which  rose  up  in  the  air 
like  waterspouts. 

The  planks  of  wood  were  riddled  with  fragments. 
The  cannonading  then  diminished  and  finally  ceased. 
What  was  going  to  happen  next?  We  listened 
anxiously  and  then,  suddenly,  a  machine-gun  was  to 
be  heard.  This  meant  the  assault,  and  our  hearts 
were  full  of  anguish.  We  looked  out  into  the  distance, 
straight  in  front  of  us,  sure,  however,  that  we  should 
see  nothing.  Then,  all  at  once,  by  the  communication 
trench,  a  whole  mass  of  wounded  men  arrived.    They 


332  Brave  Belgians 

were  pale  and  panting  and  many  of  them  drenched 
to  the  bones. 

"Oh  the  wretches,  the  wretches,  they  had  us, 
Doctor!  It  was  horrible.  We  had  scarcely  left  the 
trench,  when  they  mowed  us  down.  Some  of  our  men 
plunged  into  the  water  to  save  themselves,  into  that 
water  over  yonder,  the  stream,  I  don't  know  what  you 
call  it,  and  they  have  been  drowned  in  that  rot. 
Others  who  were  wounded  and  were  trying  to  get 
back  into  our  lines  were  finished  off  by  them,  finished 
off,  Doctor,  by  their  machine-guns,  men  who  were 
dragging  themselves  along  on  the  ground." 

The  machine-gun  was  silent  now.  More  and  more 
wounded  arrived,  in  little  groups,  pursued  by  the 
shooting.  One  of  them  had  his  face  red  with  blood. 
There  was  blood  and  mud  everywhere,  and  on  all 
sides  moans  of  pain.  One  poor  fellow  was  sitting  in  a 
hole,  with  bullets  in  both  feet  and  his  arm  shattered. 
He  was  holding  his  arm  as  one  holds  a  baby,  rocking 
it  and  uttering  incomprehensible  things,  as  he  shook 
his  head.  There  were  about  forty  lying  either  at  the 
back  of  the  shelters  or  inside,  pele-mele,  amongst  our 
men.  They  gradually  became  more  calm  and  were 
quiet.  Those  who  could  go  on  farther  started  off  one 
by  one.  The  one  who  had  been  crying  was  now 
shivering  in  a  corner.  The  darkness  came  on  again 
gradually.     The  assault  of  the  135th  had  failed. 

In  the  night,  the  dance  began  once  more,  and  this 
time,  through  the  chinks,  we  could  see  the  red  light 
of  the  explosions.  Suddenly  a  shell  made  a  breach 
over  our  heads. 

"Is  anyone  hit?"  we  asked. 

"No  one,"  came  the  reply. 

Another  one  came  presently,  and  then  others.     We 


Shelter  D.  A.  333 

heard  them  fall  and  the  ground  shook.  We  tried  to 
go  to  sleep,  but,  with  our  hearts  beating  fast  and  our 
limbs  cramped,  sleep  would  not  come.  More  shells 
arrived.  We  thought  they  were  exploding  farther 
away,  but  no,  that  one  was  nearer.  Then  another 
farther  away  and,  after  this,  silence  again.  We  were 
tired  of  hoping  against  hope  and  we  all  pulled  our 
blankets  up  and  covered  our  faces. 

The  dawn  was  slow  in  coming.  There  were  no 
more  illusions  possible  for  us.  As  long  as  the  Germans 
were  on  this  side  of  the  water,  life  would  be  unbearable 
for  us.  And  yet  it  was  a  beautiful  day  and  a  bird  was 
singing  on  the  broken  branch  of  a  tree.  It  was  so 
good  to  be  alive ! 

Thanks  to  the  shells  round  here,  the  graves  were 
ready  made.  We  put  the  Grenadiers  and  French  who 
were  in  the  neighborhood  into  them.  Our  domain 
was  very  limited,  and  was  skirted  on  every  side  by 
death.  Presently  breakfast  was  served,  bread  and 
jam,  cold  coffee  in  aluminium  goblets.  These  were 
the  usual  rations,  for  we  had  to  live  in  spite  of  every- 
thing. We  yawned  as  we  looked  out  and  saw  the  thin 
brown  lines  of  the  German  trenches  in  front  of  us. 

In  the  afternoon,  the  aeroplanes  were  flying  about 
over  our  heads  in  the  blue  sky,  and  presently  the 
azure  road  was  riddled  with  white  spots.  We  were  all 
watching  them,  but  we  soon  had  to  go  in  and  take 
shelter,  as  the  splinters  fell  about  with  a  whirring 
sound.  One  of  our  machines  then  appeared  in  pursuit 
of  the  others  and  this  was  intensely  exciting  for  us. 
It  rushed  along  like  a  bird  of  prey,  but  unfortunately 
its  victim  had  time  to  escape  .  .  .  and  so  the  time 
passed. 

Once  more  the  dance  began,  and  the  noise,  this  time, 


334  Brave  Belgians 

was  formidable  and  uninterrupted.  Again  the  big 
shells  tore  up  the  ground  near  us,  flinging  into  the  air 
enormous  clouds  which  hid  the  light  from  us.  The 
rubbish  fell  down  like  rain,  the  ground  trembled,  and 
our  huts  shook.  The  next  one  came  along  with  a 
terrible,  hissing  sound,  and  then  another  and  another. 
We  wondered  whether  the  cannon  would  never  cease 
again.  For  days  now,  we  had  heard  it  like  this.  At 
last  there  was  silence  once  more.  We  could  scarcely 
believe  it  at  first.  The  backs  of  our  necks  ached  and 
our  ears  were  on  the  alert.  What  was  the  meaning  of 
this  wonderful  silence?  We  could  not  hear  the 
machine-gun.  Well,  then  .  .  .  our  assault  must  have 
succeeded.  .  .  .  We  could  not  believe  this.  It  was 
too  good  to  be  true.  In  spite  of  everything,  our 
breasts  were  swelling  with  joy  and  the  men  burst  out 
singing  the  Marseillaise. 

Oh,  if  we  could  only  know  what  had  happened! 
Presently  a  soldier  came  our  way. 

"What's  the  news?  "  cried  out  our  men.  He  looked 
at  us  in  a  dazed  way,  holding  his  metal  cup  in  his 
hand. 

"News  of  the  assault?"  he  said.  "It's  been  put 
off." 

It  was  night  and,  on  the  Steenstraete  side,  there 
was  a  house  in  flames,  throwing  huge  red  lights  on  the 
sky.  The  fuses,  with  their  ideal  colouring,  rose 
silently  again  in  the  air  with  their  gentle  ctu-ves. 
Our  long  serpents,  with  their  golden  spangles,  rushed 
out  into  the  darkness,  letting  a  star  of  pale  light  fall 
in  the  air. 

By  gliding  along,  from  shell  hole  to  shell  hole,  it 
was  possible  to  get  as  far  as  the  mill.    In  the  communi- 


Shelter  D.  A.  335 

cation  trench,  a  dark,  crushed,  charred  body  had 
sunk  down.  Farther  on,  there  were  paving  stones 
that  had  been  torn  up  and  rubbish,  from  all  sides, 
that  had  accumulated.  The  hillock  was  torn  open 
and  the  opening  led  out  to  the  light  night.  The 
shadows  here  were  motionless  and  the  very  things 
looked  dead.  It  was  absolute  solitude,  a  terrible 
picture  of  war,  the  strange  domain  of  fear. 

Of  the  five  shelters,  only  one  was  intact.  Two  of 
them  were  nothing  but  heaps  of  planks.  The  ear 
was  now  accustomed  to  all  the  noises;  it  had  learnt  to 
know  when  danger  was  near  and  every  sound  had  its 
own  special  significance  in  our  minds.  Every  after- 
noon the  action  began  again,  it  was  alwaj's  the  same 
thing.  Weariness  made  our  heads  and  limbs  seem 
heavy.  Life  was  passing  by  in  this  way  now.  From 
time  to  time,  delegates  went  to  the  different  com- 
panies, bending  down  almost  double,  tricking  danger. 

In  the  shelters,  a  fool  was  telling  extraordinary  tales, 
tales  of  riotous  life  and  of  quarrels.  Everyone  laughed. 
His  face  was  all  awry,  but  he  would  not  upon  any 
account  laugh  himself.  There  was  a  red-haired  youn<T 
man  there,  too,  with  long  hair.  He  was  pale  and 
sickly.  He  was  listening  anxiously  to  all  the  sounds 
outside.  Why  in  the  world  did  he  think  so  much  of  hi.-; 
life.  He  began  arguing  when  it  was  his  turn  to  start 
and  then  rushed  out  into  the  danger,  as  though  his 
fate  were  a  thing  of  great  importance.  We  are  all  of 
us  like  that. 

Some  of  the  men  were  asleep,  others  were  eating, 
and  a  fierce-looking  Grenadier  was  polishing  the 
head  of  a  shell. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  could  really  have  lived  there 


336  Brave  Belgians 

a  long  time,  it  was  only  a  question  of  habit  and  custom. 

To  our  right,  the  big  green  shells  kept  bursting 
fairly  regularly  on  a  group  of  houses.  Farther  on, 
shell-mines  kept  falling.  No  one  paid  any  attention 
to  these  now.  They  came  at  their  own  sweet  will  on 
our  side.  Suddenly,  a  long,  dark  mass  was  to  be  seen 
rushing  along  and  turning  round  and  round  above  a 
roof.  Was  it  a  man  that  had  been  flung  into  the  air? 
No,  it  was  a  shell  that  had  not  exploded  and  which 
had  bounded  again  on  to  the  footpath.  The  darkness 
came  over  us  for  the  third  time.  It  slowly  changed 
the  limiinous  tints  of  the  sky  into  pastel-like  grey 
harmonies,  which  grew  slowly  fainter  and  ended  in 
darkness. 

Suddenly,  red  fuses  were  flung  into  the  air.  An 
attack  had  begun.  In  a  few  seconds,  all  the  cannons 
were  thimdering  together.  The  German  shrapnels 
exploded  ioux  at  a  time  in  a  limiinous  mass  of  absinthe 
green,  in  the  centre  of  which  were  red  balls.  They  rent 
the  air  with  a  huge  noise.  The  seventy-fives  rushed 
out  yelling.  In  the  distance,  their  sudden  flames  were 
like  gigantic  will-o'-the-wisps.  A  machine-gun  could 
now  be  heard,  and  then  a  second  one,  and  a  third. 
Some  soldiers  of  the  418th  passed  along  in  close  file, 
dressed  in  pale  blue  which  mingled  with  the  darkness. 
Their  bayonets  glittered  in  the  green  light  of  the  fuses, 
and  then  again,  with  mad  yells,  the  "big"  shells 
appeared  on  the  plateau,  flinging  into  the  air  opaque 
clouds  which  gathered  round  us.  Gun  firing  could  be 
heard  crackling  all  along  the  line.  An  immense 
brazier  had  been  Hghted  at  Lizeme.  It  grew  bigger 
and  bigger.  And  among  the  piles  of  dark  night  clouds, 
above  Steenstraete  in  flames,  a  blood-red  moon  arose. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 
Steenstraete 

(May  25,  191 5) 

By  Dr.  Duwez,  Army  Surgeon  to  the  Regiment  of 
Grenadiers 

At  Steenstraete,  the  upheaval,  the  absolute  de- 
struction of  everything  is  formidable.  The  very  places 
where  the  houses  stood  are  only  recognisable  by  the 
heaps  of  broken  bricks  of  their  foundations.  There 
was  not  much  left  when  we  arrived  in  the  Sector,  but, 
at  present,  there  is  not  even  one  stone  upon  another. 
Everywhere  there  are  craters  hollowed  out,  and  these 
are  so  close  together  that  they  run  into  each  other. 
In  one  of  these,  a  German  corpse  could  be  seen, 
standing  up,  buried  up  to  his  waist  and  headless. 
Pieces  of  uniforms  were  visible  in  the  beaten  soil,  and, 
as  the  ground  gave  way,  one  saw  a  face  under  one's 
feet,  the  shape  of  which  was  vaguely  outlined  and  the 
mouth,  with  its  white  teeth,  was  open  like  a  rat  hole. 

We  saw  what  had  been  the  brewery  with  its  huge 
cellars.  It  had  fallen  completely  in.  We  could  only 
recognise  the  road  by  its  tom-up  pavement  and  its 
twisted  rails.  Of  all  Steenstraete,  there  is  nothing 
left,  it  has  been  razed  to  the  ground.  The  bridge  is 
nothing  but  a  wretched  heap  of  old  iron. 

The  Steenstraete  Bridge!  Names  and  sites,  like 
22  337 


338  Brave  Belgians 

people,  acquire  their  titles  of  nobility.  At  present, 
the  Algerian  sharp-shooters  are  guarding  the  bridge. 
In  order  to  go  forward,  we  had  to  disturb  the  sentinels 
who  were  lost  in  thought  near  their  battlements. 
We  had  to  climb  over  the  sleeping  soldiers,  too. 
Some  of  them  had  hollowed  out  alcoves  in  the  earth 
and  they  were  almost  buried  in  them.  Others  had 
stretched  their  tents  out  on  the  stakes  and  they  were 
sleeping  in  the  square  of  shade  which  this  afforded. 
They  rather  blocked  the  way  for  the  patrol's  rounds. 
Their  greenish  yellow  uniform  was  almost  the  colour 
of  the  ground.  Here  and  there,  the  red  of  a  Chechia 
cap  gave  relief  to  the  colouring.  Bayonets  could  be 
seen  everywhere,  glittering  in  the  sunshine.  They  had 
a  crapouillot,  a  bomb-thrower  and  a  German  machine- 
gun,  all  this  among  the  battery,  together  with  sacks 
of  earth,  dry  mud,  and  the  ruins  of  walls  which  formed 
the  trenches.  The  crapouillot  seemed  to  be  crouch- 
ing down,  whilst  the  machine-gun  and  the  bomb- 
thrower  stretched  their  necks  forward  in  the  direction 
of  the  enemy.  Here  and  there,  the  green  and  yellow 
bags,  which  the  Germans  had  left  behind  them, 
reminded  us  of  the  recent  occupation.  It  was  a 
tranquil  moment,  for  the  cannon  was  silent. 

Under  the  ardent  sun,  with  the  dry  mud  colour 
which  pervaded  everything,  the  outlines  of  the  Alge- 
rian sharp-shooters,  their  bronzed  complexions  and 
their  eagle-like  profiles  reminded  one  of  an  Oriental 
street. 

One  can  have  no  idea  of  modem  warfare  without 
having  seen  the  ground  all  torn  up  by  shells  and 
hollowed  out  in  all  directions  by  trenches,  with  the 
old  communication  passages  of  the  Germans  cutting 
ours    perpendicularly.     Houses,    the    road,    gardens, 


Steenstraete  339 

fields  are  all  mixed  up  in  one  mass  of  ruin  and  broken 
earth.  It  is  no  use  expecting  to  find  here  that  comfort 
which  embellishes  calmer  war  zones;  it  is  useless  to 
look  for  tombs  all  regularly  arranged  and  covered  with 
grass,  each  one  with  a  cross,  on  which  the  dead  man's 
name  is  written  in  white  letters. 

Here  and  there,  in  this  region,  a  rusty  bayonet 
emerges,  and  on  it  is  a  tattered  military  cap.  Two 
sticks  joined  together  to  form  a  cross  may  also  be 
seen  now  and  then,  but  that  is  all.  And  yet,  under 
this  ground,  there  are  heaps  and  heaps  of  dead  bodies 
buried  hap-hazard.  The  sharp-shooters  have  taken 
some  of  them  for  consolidating  their  parapet.  Cellars 
fell  in  burying  their  occupants.  On  every  side  there 
are  whiffs  of  strong  odours.  The  ground  moves 
under  our  feet  and  whenever  one  treads  in  muddy 
puddles,  this  odour  is  still  stronger.  The  wind  of 
Death  has  passed.  Everything  is  destroyed  here,  and 
even  the  grass  does  not  grow  again  in  such  spots. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 
Lizerne 

(June,  191 5) 

By  Dr.  Duwez,  Army  Surgeon  to  the  Regiment  of 
Grenadiers 

We  were  walking  along  the  winding  attack  trench, 
skirting  the  Yperlee.  It  is  a  trench  that  gradually 
gets  more  and  more  shallow.  Just  where  it  ends,  the 
dead  bodies  of  two  French  soldiers  were  lying,  their 
faces  black  and  unrecognisable.  Water  was  running 
over  the  injured  thigh  of  one  of  them  and  his  flesh 
was  as  red  as  his  trousers.  The  brook  among  the 
wild  grasses  was  full  of  rubbish  of  all  sorts;  and  the 
tall  trees  sheltering  it  were  either  headless,  or  they 
had  been  mown  down,  and  were  lying  shattered  on  the 
ground.  Some  of  the  branches  had  resprouted  and 
the  muddy  brooklet,  in  which  mouldy  bread  and  tins 
of  provisions  were  floating,  continued  to  flow  slowly 
on.  Polluted,  but  glorious,  it  went  on  over  crumbling 
tree  trunks  and  improvised  bridges,  past  earth  shelters 
and  mud  banks  towards  archways  that,  in  the 
distance,  appear  to  be  covered  with  flowers.  It  was 
flowing  on  towards  that  old  gay,  laughing  valley, 
little  known  formerly,  but  which  now  bears  the 
charming  and  terrible  name  of  the  "covered  road  of 
the  Yperlee. " 

340 


Lizerne  341 

We  then  went  along  the  other  trench,  in  which  are 
the  tombs  of  many  of  our  men.  A  foot  could  be  seen 
emerging  from  the  parapet,  and  everywhere  was  that 
odour  that  one  can  never  forget,  the  odour  that  reveals 
the  presence  of  dead  bodies  more  distinctly  than  the 
sight  of  them. 

We  then  went  along  the  parallel  one.  It  curves 
inwards  near  Lizerne  and  we  crossed  the  road  imder 
the  district-railway. 

By  dint  of  creeping,  climbing,  and  running,  we 
managed  to  reach  the  German  trench  which  forms  an 
arched  circle  on  the  other  side  of  the  village.  It  had 
been  entirely  overturned  by  the  shells.  We  could  see 
grey  coats  that  had  been  left  behind,  stiffened  legs 
emerging  from  the  embankment,  and  cartridges. 
The  houses,  behind  which  the  trench  had  been  con- 
structed, had  fallen  down,  whole  pieces  of  the  walls 
together,  but  there  was  more  character  about  them 
than  those  of  Steenstraete,  as  they  showed  that  they 
had  been  houses.  The  whole  of  the  back  of  one  house 
had  fallen  all  in  a  piece.  Under  the  ruins  could  be  seen 
three  dead  bodies  of  Joyeux, '  their  skulls  crushed  and 
covered  with  long,  dull  brown  hair.  I  crossed  the 
road  and  entered  a  little  house,  the  general  sitting- 
room  of  which  was  still  intact.  A  Boche  was  lying 
there  with  his  limbs  stretched  out,  his  face  black,  his 
nose  flattened,  and  his  eyes  sunken.  Flies  had  left 
their  traces  on  his  chin  and  cheeks.  He  had  evidently 
been  searched,  as  the  buttons  of  his  coat  had  been 
cut  off,  but  he  still  had  his  boots  on. 

The  whole  hamlet  was  nothing  but  a  heap  of  ruins. 
Guns,  bayonets,  beds  of  sacking,  and  belts  were  flung 
about  everywhere.    The  dead  could  scarcely  be  dis- 
'  Soldiers  belonging  to  the  African  Battalion. 


342  Brave  Belgians 

tinguished  from  the  ground  which  partially  covered 
them.  Shells  had  hollowed  out  holes  everywhere  and 
on  returning  from  the  other  side  of  the  road,  I  walked 
over  half-buried  corpses. 

From  where  we  were,  we  looked  over  the  plain  in 
the  distance,  the  beautiful  plain  with  its  gentle  undu- 
lations and  its  groups  of  trees  here  and  there.  It  was 
quite  green  and  looked  so  flourishing  and  lovely. 
We  could  see  the  brown  line  of  our  trenches  and  those 
of  the  Germans.  Nearer  to  us,  all  the  ground  was 
furrowed  with  communication  trenches,  with  elements 
of  defence,  with  sacks  of  earth  for  fortification.  It 
seemed  as  though  enormous  ants  had  devastated  the 
beautiful  garden  of  Flanders. 

The  sky  was  wonderfully  blue.  We  could  see  it 
between  the  broken-up  roofs,  through  the  holes  in  the 
walls,  between  the  branches  of  the  rent  trees,  between 
the  fragments  of  exploded  barrels,  which  were  spread 
out  fan-shaped  like  palm  leaves.  The  shrubs  were 
already  sprouting  again  over  the  ruins.  Birds  were 
singing  in  the  midst  of  the  silence,  and  the  fields  of 
turnips,  which  had  gone  to  seed  and  which  were 
flowering,  formed  big  yellow  patches  among  the  corn. 

And  these  were  the  places  which  had  witnessed 
such  hard  fighting,  the  places  over  which  avalanches 
of  fire  had  swept.  They  were  now  given  over  to 
silence,  and  mankind  there  was  nothing  more  than 
flattened  carrion,  almost  in  a  state  of  deliquescence, 
only  to  be  recognised  by  his  colourless  hair  and  by  the 
blue  or  grey  coat  which  covered  him.  And  Nature, 
as  we  saw,  was  ready  to  cover  everything  up.  Nature 
which  never  dies.  In  an  instant,  the  products  of  so 
many  centuries  of  civilisation  had  been  annihilated 
there.    But  the  space  devastated,  in  spite  of  its  extent, 


Lizerne  343 

is  remarkably  limited,  and  only  the  works  of  man  and 
man  himself  had  suffered.  The  enemy  was  there  and 
had  seen  us,  for  we  were  absolutely  in  the  open.  We 
were  comparatively  safe  though  for,  near  though  we 
were,  we  were  too  small.  Shells  of  15  calibre  began 
to  be  fired  again  at  Lizerne.  They  fell  with  a  great 
noise,  sending  columns  of  rubbish  and  clouds  of  black 
smoke  into  the  air.  We  set  off  again,  taking  with  us  a 
German  bayonet,  a  Chechia,  a  shell  fuse,  and  some 
yellow  and  purple  pansies  of  rich  colouring,  which  had 
flowered  in  the  deserted  gardens.  We  went  back  by 
the  intricate  trench  passages.  In  a  solitary  shelter, 
by  the  side  of  one  of  these,  a  man  belonging  to  the 
418th  was  lying.  We  recognised  him,  thanks  to  his 
brown,  ribbed  velveteen  trousers  and  his  pale  blue 
coat,  with  its  two  squares  of  vivid  yellow  on  the 
collar.  He  was  lying  on  his  back  and  some  open 
letters  were  on  his  chest.  Some  of  his  friends  had 
fastened  some  papers  on  the  entrance  to  the  hole, 
giving  his  name.  Standing  there,  bareheaded,  in  the 
glaring  sunshine,  we  remained  for  a  moment  looking 
at  this  man,  who,  here  alone,  far  away  from  his  own 
people,  had  seen  his  moment  of  happiness  and  glory 
escape  him  for  ever. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

Death  of  Sergeant  Count  Charles 
d  *  Ansembour  g 

By  Dr.  Duwez,  Army  Surgeon  to  the  Regiment  of 
Grenadiers 

Between  the  walls  of  sacks,  by  the  breach  hollowed 
out  in  the  dyke,  we  could  see  the  Yser,  its  banks  of 
mud,  and  its  grey,  tranquil  stream.  The  green  bank 
on  the  other  side  was  reflected  in  it,  surmounted  by 
spikes  lifting  their  sharp  points  towards  the  sky. 

The  raft  glided  along  noiselessly.  The  man  who 
was  drawing  the  rope  was  crouching  down  at  the 
water's  edge  and  his  khaki  coat  made  him  look  like 
a  big  rat  curled  up.  In  the  breach  opposite,  one  or 
two  anxious  faces  could  be  seen.  The  raft  bunted 
against  the  edge.  We  were  almost  in  the  enemy's 
territory. 

Along  the  little  dyke  was  a  shallow  trench  hollowed 
out  in  the  thick  grasses.  One  had  to  bend  almost 
double  in  order  to  be  protected  by  the  top  of  the 
trench.  The  Yser,  at  our  feet,  made  ^  bend  and 
curved  inwards  towards  Dixmude.  The  pink  and 
white  ruins  of  this  town  could  be  seen  in  the  back- 
ground. The  trench  then  continued  higher  up  and  very 
soon  we  were  in  the  little  post. 

344 


Death  of  Charles  D'Ansembourg  345 

It  was  there  that  Sergeant  d'Anscmbourg  was 
lying.  A  soldier  was  endeavouring  to  staunch  the 
blood  which,  flowing  in  long  drops  over  the  face  and 
from  the  back  of  the  wounded  man's  head,  formed  a 
little  pool.  The  ball  had  struck  him  just  above  the 
right  eye,  near  the  temple.  It  had  made  a  hole  in  the 
cap  lying  near  the  grenade.  The  wound  was  a  mortal 
one;  there  was  nothing  to  be  done.  All  that  remained 
of  life  was  gently  ebbing  away. 

As  yet,  the  paralysis  was  not  complete.  Some 
faculties  still  remained.  When  the  wound  was 
dressed,  the  poor  man  remained  for  a  few  seconds, 
holding  his  head  with  his  hands,  leaning  on  his  elbow, 
as  though  wrapt  in  thought.  He  did  not  recover 
consciousness,  though,  for  a  single  minute,  nor  did  he 
utter  a  word. 

He  had  on  his  waterproof  coat,  of  a  greenish  colour, 
and  his  brown  uniform  with  a  leather  belt.  The 
refined  outline  of  his  sympathetic  face  could  be  seen. 
In  the  little  excavation,  with  its  steep  approach, 
everything  was  the  colour  of  the  ground.  The  blood 
stains  alone  were  a  cruel  contrast  to  the  rest  of  the 
colouring. 

Presently  a  head  appeared  at  the  edge  of  our  burrow. 
It  was  a  soldier  bringing  with  him  a  stretcher.  He 
gave  a  leap  and  then  came  in  on  all  fours.  Gently 
we  laid  the  wounded  man  on  the  stretcher.  Bullets 
grazed  the  top  of  the  earthen  parapet,  flinging 
rubbish  and  dust  over  us.  The  Germans  were  there, 
quite  near,  cnly  fifty  yards  away  probably. 

The  wounded  man  lay  there  unconscious,  his  legs 
already  paralysed,  his  arm  clenched  on  his  breast. 
We  pushed  the  stretcher  a  little  further  fonvard, 
where  the  digging  had  been  deeper.       We  were  in  a 


346  Brave  Belgians 

trench  that  had  belonged  to  the  enemy  and  had  been 
won  by  our  men.  There  were  niches  in  the  walls, 
which  had  served  as  refuge  during  bombardments. 
By  crouching  down,  we  could  get  right  into  these 
niches  with  our  knees  up  to  our  chins.  At  the  end  of 
the  passage  were  some  sacks,  used  for  protecting  the 
sentinel.  The  sky  was  blue  above  us,  but  we  could 
not  look  at  it,  as  our  attention  was  given  to  the  man 
lying  there  before  us. 

"He  was  too  daring,"  said  a  Corporal.  "Yester- 
day, he  came  boldly  in  without  stooping  in  the  least. 
To-day  I  was  here  and,  as  I  watched  him  coming  in, 
I  was  just  beginning  to  cry  out :  '  Sergeant,  what  are 
you  doing  ?'  when  I  saw  him  sink  down.  He  fell  there, 
against  the  side  first,  and  then  he  rolled  down." 

The  man  who  spoke  had  the  thin,  stern-looking 
face  peculiar  to  those  who  have  suffered  much  during 
the  war. 

"I  have  seen  plenty  wounded,"  he  continued, 
"but  never  anyone  like  that  whilst  I  was  speaking  to 
him.     You  cannot  imagine  the  impression  it  makes." 

A  man  who  was  crouching  down  making  the  trench 
deeper,  threw  some  earth  over  the  parapet.  Some 
bullets  dashed  against  it.  The  face  of  the  wounded 
man  grew  gradually  more  and  more  lifeless  and  his 
breathing  became  more  difficult.  In  order  to  take 
him  away,  we  were  obliged  to  wait  until  the  blue  of 
the  sky  grew  fainter  and  the  darkness  came  on.  To 
attempt  anything  else  meant  certain  death.  Every- 
one tried  to  say  something,  by  way  of  helping  to  kill 
time. 

He  was  not  even  on  duty.  He  volunteered  to  give 
a  hand  in  taking  the  post.  'I  am  better  qualified 
than  the  others.  Commandant,'  he  said,  'for  risking 


Death  of  Charles  D'Ansembourg  347 

my  life.  I  am  not  married  and  I  am  not  an  only  son. 
If  I  happen  to  disappear,  I  shall  leave  no  one  depend- 
ing on  me.'" 

Leaning  against  the  parapet,  we  waited  there.  It 
began  to  get  gradually  colder  and  colder,  and  our 
heads  and  limbs  were  feeling  more  and  more  the 
fatigue  of  three  days'  consecutive  bombardment. 
Our  eyes  were  fixed  all  the  time  on  the  motionless 
features  of  the  man  whom  we  had  known  so  gay  and 
so  full  of  life. 

In  the  distance  a  mine  exploded,  giving  a  sudden 
shock  to  the  ground.  A  part  of  the  trench  had  blown 
up,  it  was  a  piece  of  the  "Death  Trench"  that  had 
disappeared  in  the  air.  An  aeroplane  then  came  and 
shooting  followed  it.  The  cannon  now  made  its 
voice  heard.  The  time  seems  long  when  one  is 
waiting  and  watching  and,  as  the  wounded  man's 
face  changed,  our  hearts  grew  fuller  and  fuller,  and  we 
suffered  acutely  as  we  watched  this  life  passing  slowly 
away.  Under  the  slight  moustache,  the  white  teeth 
could  now  be  seen,  the  uninjured  eye  had  lost  its 
expression  and  brilliancy,  and  only  one  of  the  slender, 
sun-burnt  hands  moved. 

The  sky  over  our  heads  began  to  get  paler  and  paler. 
The  white  clouds  then  turned  grey  and  mauve.  The 
hour  was  approaching  for  us  to  leave  and,  creeping 
along,  we  went  to  see  how  the  land  lay,  in  order  to 
decide  which  way  to  go. 

The  green  ground  was  all  pierced  with  shell  holes 
newly  made  in  the  dark  earth.  Spikes  were  to  be 
seen  everywhere,  ours  made  of  wood,  and  the  others  of 
iron,  protected  by  barbed  wire.  Rubbish  of  all  kinds 
strewed  the  soil.  On  the  other  side  of  the  winding 
Yser,  the  green  and  brown  dyke  looked  like  a  cliff 


348  Brave  Belgians 

rising  above  the  water,  that  wonderful  dyke  against 
which  the  barbarous  wave  of  invaders  had  lashed  in 
fury  and  then  died  away. 

It  was  just  the  moment  when  the  blazing  light  fades 
and  every  different  colour  stands  out  clearly. 

The  piles  of  the  two  landing  stages,  made  of  planks, 
were  plunged  in  the  water. 

One  of  us  pushing  and  the  other  pulling,  we  brought 
the  stretcher  to  the  little  trench.  The  man  who  had 
been  crouching  like  a  rat  at  the  riverside  was  to  be 
seen  again.  He  gave  a  low  whistle  and  the  raft  came 
gliding  along  the  water.  On  returning,  weighed  down 
by  us,  it  dipped  in  front,  thus  breaking  the  wavelets. 

The  entrance  was  very  narrow.  We  had  to  carry 
the  wounded  man  through  labyrinths  of  passages  with 
their  walls  of  sacks  of  earth.  This  dyke,  which,  from 
the  other  side,  looks  so  beautiful  in  all  its  greenery 
under  the  blue  sky,  showed  up  its  ugliness  and  misery 
on  our  side.  The  whole  trench  had  been  devastated 
by  the  bombardment  and  behind  it  was  nothing  but  a 
chaos  of  torn-up  earth  amidst  pools  of  water. 

In  the  distance  could  be  seen  the  plain,  finishing  in 
the  horizon  by  a  thin  band  of  trees  and  houses,  out- 
lined in  black  against  the  sunset.  The  bushes  nearer 
to  us  were  of  a  dense,  green  colour  and  the  sky  gradu- 
ally became  livid  and  heavy,  with  a  few  streaks  of 
bluish  green. 

Darkness  was  coming  over  us  and  had  already 
swooped  down  on  the  passages,  with  their  medley  of 
rubbish.  The  wounded  man  was  now  lying  quite 
motionless,  unconscious,  with  his  eye  swollen  and  his 
face  rigid.     He  was  wrapped  round  in  a  blanket. 

Caps  in  hand,  officers  and  soldiers  watched  him 
pass   away.     With  their  earth-coloured   coats,   they 


Death  of  Charles  D'Ansembourg  349 

looked  like  so  many  shadows.  They  listened  in  silence 
to  the  last  prayers. 

In  the  growing  darkness,  he  was  earned  away  along 
the  path  under  the  willow-trees.  A  mist  was  stretch- 
ing over  the  plain  and  a  fog  was  rising  from  among  the 
reeds.  For  another  moment  we  could  sec  the  dark 
outline  of  the  stretcher-bearers. 

How  many  we  had  known  who  had  come  amongst  us 
young  and  joyous!  And  how  many  of  them  had  we 
seen  carried  away  in  the  darkness,  along  the  path 
under  the  willow-trees!  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  XXXVin 
A  Guard  on  the  Yser: — The  Death  Trench 

(June  2,  1915) 

By  Corporal  J.  Libois,  of  the  i2th  Line  Regiment 

This  day's  work  was  more  terrible  than  the  Dixmude  battles. 
I  certify  that  Corporal  Libois  has  given  an  exact  account  of  the 
critical  situation  in  the  Death  Trench  of  Milestone  16  on  the 
Yser.     Sub-Lieutenant  Vueghs  of  the  12  th  Line  Regiment. 

Extract  from  a  letter,  I2.g.i^. 

The  French  offensive  of  Arras  led  to  unusual 
activity  on  otir  front.  Our  Regiment,  which  had 
just  come  back  from  the  thankless  Oostkerke  Sector, 
had  some  very  painful  experiences  during  that  week, 
and  some  of  our  Battalions  were  severely  tried. 

On  the  night  in  question,  our  Company  had  to 
relieve  guard.  Certain  sections  were  ordered  to  the 
outposts. 

"To-morrow,"  said  Lieutenant  Vueghs,  "we  shall 
occup3^  a  position  on  the  Yser  dyke.  Our  various 
posts  will  be  ranged  along  a  communication  trench 
that  has  been  made  by  the  Engineers,  but  in  this 
trench,  a  result  of  recent  attacks,  there  are  still  about 
thirty  dead  men.  As  we  come  across  them,  we  are  to 
pick  them  up  and  place  them  on  the  parapet.  The 
stretcher-bearers  will  then  take  them  away.      One 

350 


A  Guard  on  the  Yscr  351 

more  word,  this  trench  leads  into  the  German  lines 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Yser,  and  comes,  therefore, 
imder  the  enemy's  firing.  You  will  have  to  stoop 
down,  and  even  creep  along,  when  the  passage  is  too 
low.  There  must  be  great  caution  as  you  go  along. 
That  is  all  I  have  to  say.  As  for  the  rest,  I  trust  to 
you." 

The  Lieutenant  was  to  command  the  sap  head, 
Trench  No.  i.  This  was  the  most  advanced  of  all 
the  posts,  only  thirty  yards  away  from  the  Boches. 
I  was  to  be  there  too,  and  Sergeant  Deltenre  with 
about  ten  men.  What  would  be  the  outcome,  we 
wondered?  At  any  rate,  it  would  be  something  fresh, 
and  we  were  delighted  at  this. 

The  summer  twilight  came  very  gradually.  The 
soldiers  lined  up,  with  their  heavy  knapsacks  on  their 
backs,  and  their  wallets  containing  provisions  for  two 
days. 

"Right!  Four  in  a  line!  March!"  and  quite 
tranquilly,  the  Company  filed  by  in  a  long  column, 
crossing  the  meadows  and  the  fields  of  sweet-scented 
horse-beans.  We  went  along  humming  and  singing. 
Half-way,  we  had  the  usual  halt  and  rest.  The  soldiers 
lying  in  the  fields,  in  the  dusk,  gave  a  picturesque 
note  to  the  scene.  The  purple-tinted  clouds  of  the 
beautiful  sunset  of  Flanders  gradually  took  a  pinky 
shade.  In  front  of  us,  towards  the  east,  was  the 
horribly  mutilated  steeple  of  the  Oostkerke  Church, 
standing  out,  with  extraordinary  clearness,  against 
the  great  red  disc  of  the  moon,  which  was  just  rising. 
And  in  the  background  could  already  be  seen  myste- 
rious stars  flashing  forth  from  the  earth.  These  were 
the  brilliant  and  ephemeral  enemy  fuses.  Everything 
else   was   absolutely   calm.     From   time   to   time,    a 


352  Brave  Belgians 

cricket  replied  to  another  cricket.  A  cool  wind  swept 
over  us  and,  from  the  various  groups,  here  and  there, 
melancholy  refrains  lulled  us  and  made  us  dreamy. 

Our  officers  appeared  to  be  enjoying  the  poetry  of  it 
all,  for  they  gave  us  a  rather  longer  halt  than  the  time 
fixed. 

"Laugh  and  sing,"  they  perhaps  thought,  "be  gay 
and  joyful,  a  little  later  on,  we  shall,  perhaps,  bring 
back  with  us,  the  glorious  remains  of  one  or  other  of 
your  comrades,  now  singing  there!" 

On  the  Yser  plains,  there  are  probably  places 
destined  for  many  of  us.  Heaven  knows  that  we  all 
value  life,  and  yet  these  thoughts  do  not  make  us  sad 
and,  thanks  to  a  force  of  character  which  we  never 
suspected,  there  is  more  liveliness  and  sincere  gaiety 
to  be  found  among  the  simple  soldiers  than  anywhere 
else. 

Presently  the  order  came  to  shoulder  arms,  and  we 
set  off  once  more.  The  calm  that  we  had  enjoyed 
was  only  a  truce.  It  was  now  broken  by  the  deafening 
volleys  of  our  guns.  The  enemy's  lines  were  being 
bombarded  and  it  was  a  great  joy  to  us  to  see  the 
flashes  over  there,  to  the  right,  produced  by  the 
explosions  of  our  shells.  We  had  now  entered 
the  danger  zone  and  the  darkness  was  intense.  We 
advanced  in  Indian  file,  one  platoon  at  a  time.  In 
the  background,  lighted  up  almost  all  the  time  by 
the  luminous  fuses  of  the  Germans,  we  could  see 
outlines  of  figures  bending  down,  stooping  low,  and 
then  standing  up  again.  It  was  like  a  scene  out  of 
some  enchanted  land. 

Finally,  we  reached  our  trenches.  The  relieving  of 
the  guard  took  place  very  quickly  with  no  waiting 
about.     The  enemy  was  bombarding  us,  but  the  aim 


A  Guard  on  the  Yscr  353 

was  not  good.     We  began  to  fit  up  and  remake  our 
shelters.     I  made  a  reconnaissance  in  the  direction  of 
the  communication  trench.     The  entrance  was  ob- 
structed by  the  evacuation  of  the  dead  bodies.     We 
had    a    most    awful    task.     The    stretcher-bearers, 
moving  along  on   their  backs,   dragged   the   bodies 
with  them  by  ropes.    These  bodies  were  already  in  a 
state  of  decomposition  and,  when  they  came  into  the 
light,  it  could  be  seen  that  their  clothes  were  torn  off 
and    that    their   skin    was   grazed.     Shrapnels   kept 
exploding  near  us,  so  that  we  had  to  keep  close  to  the 
parapet.     The  night  passed  without  any  other  inci- 
dent than  the  visit  of  the  General  of  the  Division. 
In  the  morning  our  watch  was  over  and,  when  the 
lookouts  were  placed,  we  had   permission    to  sleep. 
All  day  long  we  remained  walled  up  in  our  trenches  of 
sacks.     From  the  Dixmude  posts,  which  dominated  us, 
the  enemy  kept  an  eye  on  us  and,  each  time  that  we 
showed  any  sign  of  Hfe,  proved  to  us  that  we  were 
very  carefxilly  watched.     From  time  to  time,  by  way 
of    entertainment,    our   outposts   were    bombarded. 
At  night,  our  time  came  for  relieving  guard  again. 
We  restored  ourselves  with  coffee,  for  we  were  in  a 
very  thirsty  place.     We  took  a  good   provision  of 
cartridges,  of  sacks  of  earth,  and,  wnth  heavy  shields, 
leaving  our  knapsacks  in  safety,  we  started,  at   11 
o'clock,  on  our  march  through  the  Yser  communica- 
tion trench. 

It  was  a  march  that  appeared  to  us  to  last  a  century, 
and  certainly  Dante's  imagination,  in  his  visions  of 
hell,  never  surpassed  the  horrors  of  it.  The  passage 
was  narrow  and  skirted  the  parapet  of  the  Yser.  Its 
access  was  so  difficult  and  trying,  that  it  was  no  use 
thinking  of  removing  the  dead  which  obstructed  it. 
33 


354  Brave  Belgians 

We  had  to  imitate  the  serpent,  the  toad,  and  the  mole. 
In  order  to  pass  the  guard  we  were  relieving,  the  men 
had  to  lie  down  flat  and  we  had  to  crawl  over  them. 
No  one  spoke  a  word.  Shrapnels  kept  exploding  and 
bullets  whizzed  along  continually,  flattening  them- 
selves against  the  parapet.  I  saw  some  of  them 
ploughing  up  the  earth  scarcely  twenty  centimetres 
above  the  heads  of  my  comrades,  and  I  was  afraid 
each  time  that,  in  rebounding,  they  would  woimd  one 
or  another  of  them.  We  were  all  wedged  in  as  though 
in  a  vice.  At  times,  we  had  to  advance  quickly, 
bent  nearly  double,  our  backs  almost  broken,  at  times 
we  had  to  crawl  along,  pushing  ourselves  onward 
with  our  elbows  and  knees,  letting  go  our  shields  which 
encumbered  us  and  which,  knocking  against  the  sides, 
made  a  sonorous  noise.  When  we  came  to  embattle- 
ments,  watched  as  we  were  by  the  marksmen  posted 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Yser,  we  had  to  rush  for  our 
lives.  Our  faces  were  bathed  in  perspiration.  Sud- 
denly, we  came  across  a  dark,  motionless  mass  on  the 
ground.  We  thought  it  might  be  one  of  the  engineers 
at  work. 

"Hi  there,  what  are  you  doing?  Answer!"  ordered 
the  Lieutenant.  Shaking  his  arm,  we  found  that  it 
dropped  lifeless. 

"Forward!  over  the  dead  "man!"  was  our  order. 
Shuddering,  and  gasping  for  breath,  we  obeyed. 
Feeling  for  him  with  our  feet  and  slipping  over  his 
head,  we  went  on  our  way.  Presently  we  had  reached 
the  spot  known  as  "the  house  in  ruins."  The  parapet 
had  been  torn  away  by  a  shell,  and  this  might  expose 
us  to  view.  We  had  to  climb  and  jump  at  the  same 
time.  Horrors!  I  fell  with  my  hand  on  the  icy  face 
of  a  dead  man.     The  German  Artillery  now  came  into 


The  Death  Trench  355 

play.  The  devilish  Schoorbakke  battery  took  the 
dyke  by  enfilade  and  bombarded  us.  The  shells 
arrived  whizzing  along  and  bursting  with  a  frightful 
noise,  making  the  dyke  crumble,  and  sprinkling  us 
with  all  kinds  of  rubbish.  There  was  a  second's  calm. 
By  the  livid  hght  of  the  fuses,  a  horrible  sight  was  to 
be  seen,  living  men  swarming  along  the  passage  among 
human  fragments  in  a  state  of  decomposition,  the 
most  appalling  and  terrifying  wrecks  of  humanity 
imaginable.  Horror,  repulsion,  and  disgust  were 
what  we  felt,  but  we  were  compelled  to  master  our 
feelings.  We  had  to  be  superhuman.  The  perspira- 
tion ran  from  our  faces  on  to  the  dead  men,  as  we 
climbed  over  them.  And  over  our  heads  the  bullets 
never  ceased  pouring  down,  whilst  the  shells  whizzed 
along  and  the  fuses  kept  lighting  us  up. 

Panting  and  breathless,  with  our  tongues  hanging 
out  and  our  backs  aching  so  painfully  that  some  of  our 
men  were  just  going  to  stand  upright  for  a  moment's 
relief  when  they  were  stopped  by  the  whizzing  of 
bullets  overhead.  We  pushed  on  again  and  it  seemed 
as  though  we  should  never  be  at  the  end  of  the 
passage.  At  one  moment,  we  lost  sight  of  the  file  and 
feared  that  we  had  passed  the  post.  My  brother 
headed  the  little  group  that  had  become  separated 
from  the  others,  and  I  closed  the  march.  Fortunately 
we  were  able  to  join  our  comrades  again.  Just  at  this 
moment,  we  came  to  a  number  of  corpses  in  a  worse 
state  than  the  others.  We  had  to  pass  over  them,  our 
faces  almost  touching  theirs,  our  knees  on  their  legs. 
A  terrible  putrid  odour  emanated  from  them,  an 
odour  that  will  always  be  an  infernal  memory.  Again 
we  found  ourselves  knocking  against  some  human 
bodies.     But  this  time  we  were  crawling  over  living 


35^  Brave  Belgians 

men.  Finally,  we  arrived  at  our  post.  What  a 
relief  it  was  to  us!  Our  end  had  been  accomplished. 
We  had  relieved  the  guard  and  not  one  of  us  had  been 
hit.  Our  instructions  were  simple.  We  had  to  keep 
a  lookout  and  defend  ourselves  in  case  of  attack. 
We  thought  we  should  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
German  Artillery,  as  their  own  post  was  so  near. 
The  one  thing  was  to  escape  bombs  and  grenades. 
When  the  service  was  organised,  we  hollowed  out 
some  shallow  burrows  to  serve  as  shelters.  The 
Lieutenant  passed  me  a  bottle  and  told  me  to  dis- 
infect a  dead  man  buried  in  the  trench,  whose  shoulder 
was  visible. 

In  order  to  prevent  the  Boches  from  approaching, 
we  fired  over  the  parapet  all  night  without  showing 
ourselves.  Towards  4.30,  when  the  dawn  was  break- 
ing, I  started  off  in  search  of  the  body  I  was  to  dis- 
infect. A  few  yards  away,  just  at  the  entrance  of  the 
next  trench,  I  found  a  shapeless  mass  covered  with 
linen.  Was  this  the  one?  After  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, I  raised  the  garment  which  covered  a  figure  and 
saw  a  face.  The  features  had  not  changed  and  the 
man  looked  as  though  he  were  asleep.  I  sprinkled  the 
body  with  the  liquid  which  the  Lieutenant  had  given 
me  and  covered  it  again  gently.  The  second  corpse, 
of  which  the  Lieutenant  had  spoken,  was  a  little 
farther  on.  The  shoulder  was  rather  above  the 
parapet.  We  covered  it  with  earth  and,  towards  six 
o'clock,  the  stretcher-bearers  arrived  to  take  the  two 
dead  men  away.  This  was  such  a  dangerous  task, 
however,  that  the  Lieutenant  would  not  allow  them 
to  carry  it  out.  They  took  away  the  other  dead 
bodies  and  that  made  it  less  difficult  to  get  out  of  the 
trench.     By  means  of  the  periscope,  I  now  looked  at 


The  Death  Trench  357 

the  German  trenches,  and  thereupon  that  instrument 
became  a  target  for  their  bullets.  Projectiles  now 
began  to  arrive  from  behind  us.  We  wondered  what 
this  meant,  and  the  Lieutenant  sent  word  to  Sergeant 
Denis,  who  was  at  the  last  post  but  one.  We  were 
informed  that  Sergeant  Denis  had  just  been  killed 
by  a  bullet  in  the  head.  On  passing  by  an  embattlc- 
ment,  someone  had  called  out  to  him  to  stoop  down, 
but  it  was  too  late,  a  bullet  had  killed  him  instan- 
taneously. Poor  Sergeant  Denis.  Yesterday  even- 
ing, when  I  crawled  over  him,  he  said  to  me: 
"Good-bye,  I  shall  see  you  again  soon."  I  wondered, 
in  spite  of  myself,  whether  the  fate  in  store  for  me 
might  make  his  words    prove  true.      He  had  fallen 

against    Corporal    G ,  without  uttering  a  word, 

but  his  eyes  had  been  fixed  earnestly  on  him.  We  can 
only  hope  that  the  Company  will  not  have  to  deplore 
other  losses. 

I  took  notes,  thanks  to  the  periscope,  and  I  fired 
from  an  embattlement  through  a  German  embattle- 
ment.  The  enemy  was  not  long  in  replying  with 
dumdums,  destroying  our  embattlement  over  which 
were  the  upper  sacks  of  the  parapet.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  Yser  in  the  German  trench,  I  could  dis- 
tinguish a  Boche  periscope,  and  I  was  quite  amazed 
to  see  a  soldier's  bust  above  the  parapet.  He  did  not 
stay  there  long.  There  was  a  long,  soft,  whizzing 
sound.  This  was  something  fresh:  floo-oo-floo-oo—. 
They  were  grenades,  some  of  which  burst  over  our 
shelters,  and  some  beyond  them.  Only  a  few^  were 
thrown  and,  dismal  though  their  noise  was,  it  did  not 

alarm  us. 

It  was  a  beautiful,   sunshiny  day.     Our  aircraft 
could  be   seen   against   the  blue   of   the   sky.     Our 


35S  Brave  Belgians 

machines  were  pursued  by  the  shrapnels  of  the  Boches 
but  these  did  them  no  harm.  Our  Artillery  was  firing 
quite  near  to  us  and  we  had  to  take  shelter  from  the 
shell  fragments.  Some  of  our  men  had  lost  their 
blankets,  and  some  their  provisions,  during  yester- 
day's march.  They  were  separated  from  us  by  an 
obstacle.  We  passed  them  some  food  and  exchanged 
some  amusing  notes.  The  Lieutenant,  by  way  of  a 
souvenir,  took  the  signature  of  each  occupant  of  the 
post,  in  his  note-book.  Others  followed  his  example. 
And  the  day  passed  by  very,  very  slowly.  Whilst 
keeping  watch,  we  talked  with  the  Lieutenant  about 
the  war,  about  peace  and  our  respective  occupations. 
We  talked  about  our  preferences  and  our  tastes, 
whilst,  only  a  few  yards  away,  myriads  of  big  flies 
danced  a  ghastly  saraband  around  the  body  of  our 
poor  comrade.  The  heat  began  to  be  overpowering: 
whiffs  of  warm,  nauseous  air  kept  rising  and  took 
our  appetites  away.  By  way  of  rewarding  us,  the 
Lieutenant  promised  us  each  a  good  glass,  if  everyone 
of  Post  I.  returned  safe  and  sound.  It  certainly  would 
not  be  our  fault  if  we  failed  to  accept  this  invitation. 
At  half -past  twelve,  the  observer  on  the  river  bank 
signalled  to  us  that  an  officer  was  on  his  round.  We 
all  smiled,  thinking  it  was  a  joke.  Colonel  Rade- 
makers^  of  the  3rd  Chasseurs  suddenly  appeared  in 
the  corner  of  our  trench.  We  were  amazed  and 
wondered  how  he  had  got  there.  Had  he  come  up 
from  underground  or  had  he  fallen  from  the  skies? 
Considering  his  size,  it  is  certain  that  he  could  not 
have  come  through  the  passage  without  having  been 
massacred  fifty  times  over.  He  was  there,  neverthe- 
less, and  very  much  alive,  his  fine  face  expressive  of 

*  Killed  a  few  days  later  by  a  shell  fragment. 


The  Death  Trench  359 

his  natural  gaiety  and  of  his  great  courage.  He  looked 
through  the  periscope,  wondering  whether  the  Boches 
would  honour  him  with  a  bullet.  He  certainly  was  an 
officer  of  the  "right  sort." 

Night  came  on  and  the  embattlement  that  had 
been  discovered  had  its  place  changed,  and  was 
strengthened  by  a  shield.  We  kept  a  still  stricter 
watch.  Towards  9.30,  the  firing  became  violent. 
A  quantity  of  explosive  shells  burst  on  our  parapet 
and  gave  us  the  impression  that  the  Boches  were  on 
our  trench  and  were  firing  point  blank  at  us,  so  violent 
was  the  dry  sound  of  the  explosions.  In  our  post, 
two  of  our  guns  would  not  fire  any  more.  An  attack 
seemed  imminent.  We  prepared  our  bayonets  and 
then  fired  without  ceasing.  One  of  our  comrades  who 
was  completely  worn  out,  and  could  not  stand,  was 
seated  near  us  loading  the  guns  for  us  to  fire.  It  was 
midnight  when  the  relief  guard  arrived.  The  orders 
were  given  while  we  continued  firing.  "Keep  a 
watch  on  the  bank.  Attention  at  that  battlement! 
On  guard !     Good  luck ! ' ' 

Our  return  was  safely  effected,  but  not  without 
difficulty.  It  was  easier  than  our  coming  had  been, 
as  most  of  the  dead  men  had  been  evacuated.  Finally, 
we  were  out  of  that  hell  once  more.  The  whole  post 
was  safe  and  sound.  Shrapnels  were  bursting  quite 
near  to  us  and  here,  in  the  first  line  trenches,  where  we 
had  had  to  hide  and  press  against  the  parapet  yester- 
day, we  felt  that  we  were  almost  in  security.  We 
wanted  to  halt  in  the  very  midst  of  the  danger  zone, 
to  get  our  breath,  but  the  officers  begged  us  to  be 
prudent  and  we  left  the  trenches.  In  the  distance,  we 
saw  the  stretcher-bearers  carrying  away  the  body  of 
poor  Sergeant  Denis  to  the  Lesenburg  Cemetery. 


360  Brave  Belgians 

We  rested  a  little  on  the  way,  when  we  were  in  the 
rear,  and  each  one  gave  his  experiences,  describing 
various  incidents  with  picturesque  details.  Once 
more  we  set  off,  and  at  four  in  the  morning  we  were 
back  at  our  quarters.  It  was  now  light  and  the  larks 
had  been  singing  a  long  time.  It  seemed  to  me  as 
though  everything  around  us  was  quite  new  to  us, 
and  as  though  a  century  had  passed  since  we  had  seen 
this  familiar  landscape.  We  felt  intense  satisfaction 
and  deep  joy  at  having  accomplished  a  difficult  task. 
Everyone  was  happy  and  longed  to  be  able  to  write 
to  his  relatives  and  friends,  to  all  those  for  whom  he 
cared  and  whom  he  was  now  defending. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 
Nieuport  in  Ruins 

By  Sub-Lieutenant  L.  Gilmont,   Director  of  the  Auto- 
mobile Park,  Ocean  Ambulance,   La  Panne 

When  the  battle  of  the  Yser  was  over,  and  the 
Teuton  hordes  were  stopped,  Nieuport,  the  advance 
post  of  the  immense  front  reaching  from  the  North 
Sea  to  the  Vosges,  had  to  suffer  pitiless  destruction. 
It  was  the  ransom  we  had  to  pay,  because  their  in- 
effectual effort  had  been  crushed  by  the  steadfast 
defence  of  our  heroes.  I  was  present  at  the  slow 
death  of  Nieuport  and,  as  I  had  to  go  there  frequently, 
I  never  passed  by  the  heaped-up  ruins  without  experi- 
encing a  sentiment  of  infinite  sadness  mingled  with 
revolt.  How  many  times  its  faithful  admirers  ques- 
tioned me  about  its  fate!  How  the  old  city  had  al- 
ways charmed  us  by  its  exquisite  archaism,  with  its 
little  narrow,  picturesque  streets  cut  in  straight  angles, 
its  quaint,  yellow-ochre  buildings  with  their  green 
shutters,  its  church  with  the  parvis  planted  with  tall, 
protecting  trees,  its  imposing  Templars'  Tower,  its 
Archdukes'  House  teeming  with  memories,  and  above 
all  its  massive  Cloth  Hall,  proudly  situated  on  the 
Market  Place.  What  pen  can  ever  faithfully  depict 
the  havoc  that  seventeen  months  of  war  have  made 
of  the  exquisite  Flemish  city  we  had  all  known  and 

361 


362  Brave  Belgians 

loved?  As  far  away  as  Oostdunkerque,  the  vision 
of  war  begins.  The  population  has  been  evacuated 
and  here  and  there,  along  the  streets,  there  are 
shattered  houses.  Then  comes  the  winding  road 
across  deserted  fields  and  the  triangular  wood,  that 
ill-omened  wood,  where  so  many  of  our  brave  men 
fell,  where  the  shells  rained  down  with  desperate 
persistency.  At  present,  all  is  sad  silence,  disturbed 
only  by  detonations  in  the  vicinity,  by  the  sound  of  a 
cart  passing,  or  by  the  measured  tread  of  troops  filing 
by  along  the  edge  of  the  road.  On  coming  out  of  the 
wood,  the  horizon  is  suddenly  in  view  and  the  sight 
is  heartrending.  In  the  background  is  the  town  in 
ruins,  and  all  along  the  road  little  houses  that  have 
fallen  in.  On  each  side  a  former  arm  of  the  sea  cuts 
the  dreary  moor,  which  is  skirted  by  uncultivated 
meadows,  partially  wooded.  Most  of  the  sublime  old 
trees  are  lying  there,  all  twisted  by  the  machine-guns, 
silent  for  evermore.  Some  of  those  which  are  still 
standing  seem  to  be  lifting  their  bare  branches  heaven- 
wards, in  fruitless  protest.  We  crossed  the  bridge 
and  the  level-crossing,  with  its  little  guard-house. 
The  latter  had  fallen  on  to  a  cart,  which  now  stood 
there  unable  to  move  under  its  unexpected  burden. 
And  there,  with  its  Boulevard  leading  to  the  old 
station,  all  perforated  now  with  enormous  craters, 
are  the  first  houses  of  the  town.  The  deflagrations 
were  all  brittle,  and  we  were  in  the  very  midst  of 
the  furnace.  It  was  a  vision  of  all  that  is  horrible  and, 
above  everything  else,  there  was  that  indescribable, 
persistent  odour  of  rubbish,  dust,  and  death.  .  ,  . 

Other  martyred  towns  allow  the  spectator  time 
enough  to  become  accustomed  to  the  frightful  vision. 
The  farther  one  goes,  the  more  do  the  wounds  appear 


Nieuport  in  Ruins  363 

huge  and  cruel.     But  here,  the  chaos  and  ruin  strike 
one  immediately. 

Nieuport,  like  Dixmude  and  Yprcs,  shared  the  sad 
privilege  of  an  absolute  and  systematic  destruction. 
There  are  rent  walls  everywhere  and  piled-up  ruins, 
from  which  the  most  extraordinary  fragments  of 
rubbish  emerge,  showing  all  that  remains  of  furniture, 
so  often  endeared  to  its  owners  by  fond  memories. 
Not  a  single  house  has  been  spared.  The  roofs  and 
the  floors,  riddled  by  shells,  are  shapeless  masses  now 
lying  on  the  ground.  A  few  house  fronts  are  still 
standing,  showing  the  trace  of  streets  all  dismal  and 
deserted,  except  when  a  few  rare  soldiers  pass  silently 
by,  looking  like  so  many  wandering  ghosts  in  the 
midst  of  fantastical  scenery.  The  Market  Place, 
adjoining  the  church,  was  specially  aimed  at.  It  is 
now  unrecognisable,  thanks  to  constant  bombard- 
ment. In  a  corner,  can  be  seen  the  massive  outline 
of  the  Cloth  Hall.  It  is  disfigured  by  horrible  wounds, 
but  is  still  fascinating.  It  was  one  of  the  most  in- 
teresting monuments  of  otu-  Flemish  art  of  the  fifteenth 
century.  The  injuries  of  time,  and  those  of  men,  had 
hitherto  respected  its  primitive  architecture.  The 
roof,  which  was  of  a  special  technique,  had  escaped 
until  now,  but  these  last  days  it  fell  in,  under  a  verita- 
ble avalanche  of  balls.  Quite  near  to  it  stands  the 
spectre  of  the  ruined  church.  I  could  still  see  it,  as  it 
used  to  be,  dominating  the  whole  town  with  its 
imposing  mass,  interesting  to  contemplate  and  to 
study  in  every  detail.  It  was  original ,  too,  on  account 
of  its  various  reconstructions,  the  traces  of  which  could 
be  seen  in  the  different  styles  composing  it,  from 
primitive  Gothic  to  the  Renaissance  and  Louis  XIV. 
And  what  is  left  now  of  all  this?     One  night,  it  was 


364  Brave  Belgians 

set  on  fire  by  shells,  and  the  deluge  of  shrapnels,  which 
immediately  surrounded  the  building,  prevented  any- 
one from  saving  the  least  object.  The  vaulted  roof 
fell  in.  Charred  walls,  riddled  by  shell  fragments, 
now  frame  the  columns  which  are  still  standing, 
supporting  the  graceful  ogives  that  had  been  sullied 
by  the  odious  aggression.  Quantities  of  material 
lie  in  unequal  piles;  here  and  there  a  few  decorative 
pieces,  disfigured  by  their  fall.  It  is  an  imposing 
looking  skeleton,  though,  in  its  despair,  and  it  seems 
as  though  it  wants  to  remain  there,  as  a  witness,  after 
its  own  death,  to  its  past  grandeur. 

One  tragic  relic  of  its  wreckage  still  remains,  and 
that  is  the  Tower.  In  spite  of  numberless  projectiles, 
its  massive  construction,  devastated,  but  not  con- 
quered, persists  in  dominating  the  horizon  of  Flanders. 
It  had  been  constructed,  primitively,  to  support  three 
times  its  weight.  It  scorned  the  shells  which  wounded 
it  without  knocking  it  down,  and  its  dark  mass, 
proudly  standing  in  the  midst  of  the  heaped-up 
ruins,  seems  to  be  defying  the  infernal  inventions 
aimed  at  it. 

The  cemetery  adjoining  the  church  is  a  most  touch- 
ing sight.  Loving  hands  have  managed  to  keep  the 
graves  in  order  and  they  are  covered  with  flowers. 
There  are  very  many  of  these  graves,  and  some  are 
even  on  the  paths.  Not  a  single  tomb  is  neglected. 
There  are  flowers,  vases,  statuettes,  and  ancient  wood- 
work, side  by  side  with  figures  of  coloured  plaster. 
All  that  could  be  rescued  from  the  ruins  has  been  used 
for  honouring  the  memory  of  those  who  are  no  more. 
There  is  one  grave  which  I  shall  never  forget.  It  is 
surrounded  by  the  ironwork  of  a  child's  bedstead  and, 
with  infinite  care,  climbing  plants  and  flowers  have 


Nieuport  in  Ruins  365 

been  trained  over  this.  In  the  centre,  there  arc  more 
plants,  a  crucifix  and  two  statues  forminj;  a  calvary. 

One  night  we  were  crossing  this  resting-place,  where 
so  many  heroes  are  sleeping  their  last  sleep,  when  we 
witnessed  a  touching  scene.  We  heard  the  tread  of  ap- 
proaching footsteps  and  a  murmur  of  voices.  The  chap- 
lain, in  his  surplice,  advanced,  reciting  the  Prayers  for 
the  Dead.  Behind  him,  on  a  stretcher,  carried  by  two 
sailors,  was  a  long  form.  They  went  on  their  way 
slowly  to  the  other  end  of  the  cemetery,  where  a  grave 
had  been  prepared.  They  had  to  wait  a  little,  as  in 
order  to  find  the  grave  they  needed  the  light  of  the 
fuses.  The  body  was  lowered,  a  few  more  prayers 
were  said,  and  then  the  dull  thud  of  the  earth  falling, 
and  that  was  all.  .  .  .  There  was  the  most  impressive 
silence,  in  spite  of  the  cannon  which  kept  vomiting 
forth  death,  and  the  almost  uninterrupted  crackling 
of  the  bullets.  A  few  hundred  yards  away,  the 
horizon,  forming  a  semicircle  was  lighted  up  at 
quick  intervals  by  the  fuses  which  rose,  throwing 
their  reddish  glow  over  the  darkness,  lighting  up  the 
dreary  plain,  on  the  screen  of  which  the  sombre  mass 
of  the  tower,  and  the  irregular  lines  of  the  dismantled 
pilasters  and  of  the  arches,  stood  out  all  the  more 
distinctly.  A  terrified  bat  turned  wildly  about  in  the 
air,  seeking  a  shelter  that  it  could  no  longer  find. 

I  remember  that  I  spent  that  night  at  the  relief 
station  of  the  Fusiliers,  where  I  found  a  shelter  for  my 
men  and  where  I  was  most  hospitably  treated.  In  a 
cellar,  adjoining  the  one  in  which  their  poor  wounded 
comrades  were  lying,  a  bed  was  very  quickly  made  for 
me.  The  walls  of  this  improvised  bedroom  were 
papered  with  red,  striped  paper,  comfortable  furniture 
was  arranged  here  and  there,  and  I  should  certainly 


366  Brave  Belgians 

have  slept,  and  not  thought  any  more  about  the  war, 
if  it  had  not  been  for  the  sound  of  the  cannon,  the 
detonations  of  the  grenades,  and  the  clack  of  the 
bullets  which,  from  time  to  time,  came  flattening 
themselves  against  the  outside  of  the  wall. 

At  3  o'clock,  I  was  called,  and  we  went  on  to  the 
Town  Hall,  to  do  some  work  there  at  daybreak.  It 
was  absolutely  calm  just  then ;  not  the  faintest  sound, 
not  even  the  slightest  detonation  could  be  heard  to 
disturb  the  great  silence.  We  arrived  at  Rue  Longue 
and  I  saw  the  beautiful  Louis  XIV.  fagade  once  more. 
It  was  so  characteristic,  with  its  double  flight  of  stone 
steps.  It  stood  there  almost  intact,  in  one  of  the 
angles  of  the  two  streets  that  it  ornaments.  We  went 
up  one  flight  of  stairs  and  entered  the  Museum  through 
the  bay  window.  We  stopped  short  in  front  of  a  huge, 
gaping  hole,  obstructed  by  all  kinds  of  material.  Two 
shells  of  420  calibre  had  fallen  there,  taking  away  with 
them  the  whole  of  the  back  of  the  building.  When  we 
had  finished  our  work,  before  leaving  what  had  been 
the  Museum,  I  looked  out  at  the  horizon.  There  was 
a  wider  view  from  there  now,  thanks  to  the  fall,  one 
after  another,  of  the  crumbling  gables.  I  could  see  the 
line  of  the  Yser,  and  the  canals,  the  destroyed  houses 
of  the  lock-keepers,  and,  in  the  background,  the  great 
downs.  I  then  glanced  at  the  place  where  the  huge, 
documentary  picture  of  the  Siege  of  Nieuport  used 
to  hang.  I  had  fetched  it  away  in  1910,  and  the 
Kaiser,  on  his  visit  to  Brussels,  had  stopped  a  long 
time  looking  at  it  in  a  thoughtful,  interested  way.  .  .  . 

On  our  return,  we  passed  through  the  town  again. 
It  was  just  rousing  to  its  military  life.  The  firing  had 
recommenced,  and  from  time  to  time  a  bullet  whizzed 
through  the  air. 


Nieuport  in  Ruins  367 

As  we  passed  by,  wc  looked  at  what  had  been  the 
relief  station  for  the  sailors.  Wc  had  seen  so  much 
suffering  there.  Our  colleague,  Chopard,  had  been 
hit  near  by  and  had  died  there.  On  leaving  the  town, 
we  passed  along  the  country  roads.  The  sun  was 
shining  brightly  and  it  bid  fair  to  be  a  glorious  day. 
The  most  fragrant  odours  came  to  us  from  the  woods, 
and  the  fields  were  all  refreshed  with  the  dew.  The 
birds  were  singing.  .  .  .  We  came  to  an  inhabited 
farm.  Children  were  playing  outside,  careless  of  all 
danger.  The  father  was  moving  to  and  fro,  attending 
to  his  usual  daily  work.  In  front  of  the  half  open  door, 
the  mother  could  be  seen  feeding  her  baby.  The 
hours  we  had  lived  through  seemed  now  like  a  horrible 
nightmare  which  we  would  fain  forget.  When  we 
came  to  La  Panne,  the  bell  of  the  Convent  of  the 
"Pauvres  Claires"  of  Nieuport,  which  rings  in  the 
little  tower  of  the  simple  Ocean  Chapel,  reminded  us 
that  it,  too,  had  witnessed  tragic  moments.  Poor 
little  bell!  It  seems  to  me  that  I  can  see  it  falling 
down  from  its  graceful  bell-tower,  after  the  brutal  and 
monstrous  blow  given  by  the  murderous  shell.  I  can 
still  hear  its  rebounding  fall  above  the  noise  of  the 
timibling  walls,  in  the  midst  of  the  ghastly  furnace.  I 
could  hear  its  last  echoing  groan,  a  last  protest  against 
the  odious  destruction.  Go  on  ringing  timidly,  little 
bell,  in  the  calm  of  this  bright  morning,  a  calm  only 
disturbed  by  the  noise  of  the  work  of  death.  Very  soon, 
that  song  shall  be  followed  by  another  one.  You  shall 
ring  out  then,  to  all  the  echoes,  the  song  of  joy,  the 
song  of  victory,  announcing  to  the  crowd,  thrilled 
with  joy  unspeakable,  that  the  hour  of  the  great 
deliverance  has  arrived,  the  hour  when  we  shall  find 
our  heroic  Belgium  free  once  more  and  bom  anew ! 


CHAPTER  XL 
The  St.  Elisabeth  Chapel 

By  Marcel  Wyseur,  Registrar  to  the  Military  Court. 
La  Panne,  August  26,  1915 

(To  the  patriotic  devotion  of  M.  Louis  Gilmont) 

Everyone  knows  of  the  admirable  institution 
founded  by  Dr.  Depage  at  La  Panne:  "The  Ocean 
Hospital. "  A  few  miles  away  from  the  firing  line, 
he  has  entirely  created  an  establishment  which  is  the 
most  perfect  thing  of  its  kind,  an  institution  which, 
for  the  last  year,  has  rendered  immense  service  daily. 
Ever  since  it  was  opened  at  the  end  of  191 4,  this 
hospital  has  been  continually  enlarged.  Various 
detached  buildings  and  several  fresh  departments 
have  been  added  to  the  house  as  it  first  stood.  The 
latest  improvements,  as  regards  science  and  hygiene, 
have  been  introduced  and  it  does  not  seem  possible 
that  a  more  complete  organisation,  answering  so 
thoroughly  to  all  needs,  could  be  carried  out  at  the 
front.  In  rendering  homage  here  to  those  who  are 
responsible  for  this  work  of  public  service,  we  are 
only  anxious  to  bear  testimony  to  its  utility  and  to 
acknowledge  the  merit  of  the  founders  of  the  institu- 
tion and  of  all  their  devoted  collaborators.  Doctors 
and  nurses  alike  deserve  more  than  the  gratitude  of  the 

368 


The  St.  Elisabeth  Chapel        369 

Belgian  army  and  people.     They  deserve  our  admira- 
tion too. 

The  last  Sunday  in  August,  we  were  present  at  the 
Inauguration  of  one  of  the  fresh  additions  to  this 
immense  "  ever>'thing "  which  constitutes  the  Ocean 
Hospital.     It  was  the  Inauguration  of  the  Chapel. 
At  the  limit  of  the  downs,  this  simple  church,  which 
has  sprung  out  of  the  earth,  as  though  by  magic, 
faces  the  sea  and  the  country.     It  is  a  building  on 
primitive  architectural  lines,  surmounted  by  a  little 
sturdy  spire.     Nothing  more  was  necessary.     It  was 
certainly  a  most  impressive  scene  when  the  little  pro- 
cession of  believers  wended  their  way  to  the  service, 
called  there  by  the  bell  of  the  Convent  of  the  "  Pauvres 
Claires"  of  Nieuport.    The  three  naves  were  soon  full. 
In  the  choir,  Her  Majesty  the  Queen,  who  had  gra- 
ciously deigned  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony,  had 
taken  her  place,   and  behind  her  were  a  crowd  of 
wounded  soldiers.    The  altar  reflected  the  light  of  all 
the  burning  tapers,  the  incense  was  smoking  in  the 
silver  vessels,  and,  over  yonder,  between  the  nave  and 
the  choir,  the  organs  were  singing  of  joy  and  happiness. 
The  good  saints  and  the  little  chubby  angels  could 
neither  believe  their  eyes  nor  their  ears.     The  poor, 
who  had  expected  to  die  in  the   general  earthquake 
when  their  churches  were  bombarded  and  the  infernal 
battle  was  raging  around  them,  arrived  here  now  from 
everywhere;  from  Nieuport — the  Dead;  from  Caes- 
kerke— the  Sorrowful ;  from  Pervyse— the  Devastated ; 
and  from  Ramscapelle— the  Solitary.     One  evening, 
they  had  all  met  in  a  room.     A  lamp  was  burning  in 
front  of  a  tabernacle,  there  was  a  kneeling  bench  for 
communion,  a  confessional-box,   a  pulpit,  and  some 
saints,  too,  as  astonished  as  they  were  themselves. 
24 


370  Brave  Belgians 

Were  they  really  not  dreaming  now?  Was  their 
nightmare  over?  This  was  a  church,  a  real  church 
like  their  own!  It  was  full  of  people,  too,  and  the 
psalms  were  being  chanted  by  the  choristers.  All  this 
seemed  more  beautiful  than  the  finest  dream,  and  at 
this  festival  they  forgot  all  their  past  anguish  and  the 
nightmares  they  had  lived  through.  And  in  the  midst 
of  the  general  devotion,  the  Reverend  Father  H^nusse, 
chaplain  to  the  84th  Battery,  pronounced  the  following 
eloquent  words : 
"Madame, 

"We  are  to-day  inaugurating  a  Chapel,  which,  in 
our  gratitude,  we  have  spontaneously  dedicated  to  St. 
Elisabeth.  In  the  liturgical  intention  of  this  dedica- 
tion, St.  Elisabeth  was  that  admirable  woman, 
Elisabeth  d'Anjou,  a  heroine  of  goodness,  gentleness, 
and  charity,  whom  the  Catholic  Church  has  placed 
on  its  altars  and  about  whose  touching  glory  everyone 
has  heard.  In  our  dedication,  there  is  something  else 
though,  and  no  one,  at  any  rate  no  Belgian,  will  make 
any  mistake  about  this.  In  our  eyes,  the  good  saint 
of  the  twelfth  century  has  been  reincarnated  in  the 
twentieth  century.  A  few  rays  from  her  halo  have 
come  to  encircle  another  forehead.  Her  name  is 
repeated  once  more,  but  with  an  accent  of  veneration 
and  of  tenderness,  more  keenly  felt  than  would  be  the 
case  for  a  foreign  Queen  who  died  long  centuries  ago. 
In  short,  according  to  us,  the  Ocean  Chapel  has  two 
patron  saints.  The  one  is  reigning  in  heaven  above 
in  glory,  and  only  lives  on  earth  in  the  memory  of 
Christian  generations.  The  other  patron  saint  is 
She  who  reigns  over  the  last  sands  of  what  was  Bel- 
gium, but  who  lives  in  the  hearts  of  us  all. 

"When  the  long  ordeal  of  this  war  shall  have  come 


The  St.  Elisabeth  Chapel        371 

to  an  end,  this  humble  chapel  of  wood,  which  we 
hope  may  become  historical,  will  be  clothed  afresh  in 
a  mantle  of  stone  and  adorned  with  the  splendour  of 
vsouvenirs  in  its  coloured  glass  windows,  and  in  its 
frescoes.  We  shall  certainly  see  then  the  sweet  face 
of  the  gentle  Elisabeth  d'Anjou,  and  the  miracle  of  the 
roses  and  the  miracle  of  the  leper  will  be  evoked  for  us. 
We  shall  see  the  leper  whom  St.  Elisabeth  tended  with 
her  royal  hands,  to  whom  she  gave  her  husband's  bed, 
and  who  suddenly  rose,  dazzlingly  bright,  uttering  the 
one  word:  'Elisabeth,'  for  the  leper  was  Jesus  Christ! 

"  But  by  the  side  of  those  windows,  Belgian  mothers 
will  ask  for  others  and  for  other  frescoes. 

"They  will  want  to  see  their  Queen,  who  in  time  of 
peace,  cared  for  their  little  children,  their  poor  little 
children,  some  of  whom  were  consimiptive  through 
poverty.  They  will  want  to  see  their  Queen,  who, 
when  war  broke  out,  cared  for  their  big  children,  their 
poor  big  children,  wounded  and  mutilated,  their 
health  shattered  by  battle.  Belgian  mothers  will 
want  to  see  her  there,  near  to  the  other  Saint,  so  that 
they  may  kneel  to  her  and  tell  her,  whilst  on  their 
knees,  of  the  ardent  gratitude  of  their  hearts.  They 
will  want  to  see  her  there,  because  it  is  her  place, 
beside  Him — who  pronounced  those  superhuman 
words  which  created  Charity:  'Inasmuch  as  ye  have 
done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren, 
ye  have  done  it  unto  me. '  They  will  want  to  see  her 
there  beside  Christ,  who  spake  the  name  of  Saint 
Elisabeth  so  tenderly,  and  who,  to-day.  will  surely 
call  another  saint  by  that  sweet  name,  with  that 
accent  of  infinite  tenderness  which  we  all  utter, 
Madame,  in  the  respectful  and  fervent  silence  of  our 
hearts. 


372  Brave  Belgians 

"Madame: 

"My  dear  friends: 

"The  great  royal  heart  which  thought  of  estab- 
lishing a  military  hospital  on  the  coast,  on  the  very 
edge  of  the  battle-field,  and  the  generous  hearts  which 
helped  in  the  realisation  of  the  project,  wished  to 
make  this  establishment  as  perfect  as  possible. 

"They  have  succeeded,  and  our  Ocean  Ambulance 
excites  imiversal  admiration. 

"By  opening  this  St.  Elisabeth  Chapel,  perfection 
in  this  himianitarian  work  has  been  attained.  The 
chapel  is  an  essential  part  of  any  hospital.  A  chapel 
is  necessary  everywhere  where  man  suffers,  as  it  is  a 
place  for  prayer.  Suffering  possesses  the  mysterious 
privilege  of  striking  a  man  hard,  of  making  him  think 
about  life.  It  throws  him  back  on  himself,  as  it  were, 
makes  him  weep,  remember,  and  dream,  and  when  a 
man  gives  himself  up  to  this  great  inner  work,  he  is 
not  far  from  finding  God.     He  is  ready  to  pray. 

"Suffering,  too,  possesses  the  precious  gift  of  humili- 
ating a  man,  of  making  him  feel  the  nothing  that  he 
is,  and  of  making  him  realise  of  what  little  value  he  is, 
and  when  man  is  humiliated,  he  is  not  far  from  feeling 
God  bending  down  towards  him.  He  is  ready  then  to 
pray.^ 

"Finally,  the  effect  of  suffering  is  often  to  plunge  a 
man  into  deep  distress,  which  makes  him  so  unhappy 
that  he  utters  the  supreme  cry:  'Help,  oh,  help 
me!' 

"And  when  a  man  cries  for  help  from  the  bottom  of 
his  heart,  he  is  not  far  from  hearing  within  himself,  as 
though  in  answer  to  his  appeal,  the  echo  of  that 
infinitely  sweet  voice  which  has  soothed  the  miseries 
of  the  world  for  twenty  centuries : 


The  St.  Elisabeth  Chapel        373 

"'Come  unto  mc,  all  ye  that  arc  weary  and  heavy- 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.' 

"This  is  why  the  instinct  of  a  man  who  is  sufTcring 
is  to  enter  the  temple. 

"Go  to  the  darkest  nave  of  a  church,  at  a  moment 
when  the  crowd  is  not  bidden  to  the  traditional  exer- 
cises of  worship,  and  what  do  you  see?  Women,  men, 
and  young  people  praying,  and,  on  their  faces,  in  their 
eyes,  in  their  very  gestures,  one  sees  that  they  have 
experienced  sorrow,  anxiety,  and  sadness. 

"Ask  your  mothers  who  are  waiting  for  you,  over 
yonder,  in  the  deepest  anguish,  where  they  go  in  their 
sorrow  and  suffering?  They  will  answer  you,  'To 
Church.' 

"At  the  present  moment,  ask  where  the  sufTering 
coimtry  takes  refuge,  now  that  it  is  mourning  for  its 
lost  liberty.  The  answer  will  be:  'In  the  Churches, 
where  the  presence  of  God  still  permits  the  people  to 
have  the  comfort  of  seeing  their  tri-coloured  flag,  of 
hearing  the  national  hymn,  and  of  responding  to  it 
with  the  cry  of  love  and  hopefulness:  "Long  live  the 
King!  Long  live  Liberty!'"  I  tell  you  that  every- 
where where  there  is  suffering,  there  should  be  a 
chapel,  in  which  to  shelter  one's  suffering,  under  the 
protecting  wing  of  God ! 

"But  if  there  be  one  place  of  suffering  in  the  world 
that  needs  this  holy  refuge  specially,  it  is  the  war 
hospital.  The  reason  of  this  is  on  account  of  the 
nature  of  the  suffering  that  men  endure  there.  What 
is  the  reason  of  all  this  suffering?  Why  are  you  here 
sick  and  wounded,  with  your  arm  or  your  leg  ampu- 
tated, scarred  for  ever  in  the  beauty  and  prime  of 
your  early  manhood?  Why?  For  the  sake  of  your 
brothers.    The  enemy  arrived  at  the  frontier,  threaten- 


374  Brave  Belgians 

ing  that  sacred  property,  the  native  land.  In  order  to 
defend  that  land,  occupied  by  seven  millions  of  free- 
men, two  hundred  thousand  of  them  rose  and,  seizing 
their  guns,  marched  forward  to  meet  the  invaders. 
These  two  hundred  thousand  went  forth  to  fight, 
struggle,  fall,  and  die  if  necessary  for  the  sake  of  all  the 
others,  for  the  sake  of  the  women,  the  children,  the 
aged — and  even  for  the  sake  of  the  cowardly  shirkers 
who  have  not  even  yet  grasped  what  is  their  duty. 
The  suffering  then  of  these  men,  our  soldiers,  is  a 
stiff ering  of  immolation,  of  sacrifice,  of  devotion,  a 
loving  sacrifice. 

"You  see,  then,  why  you  need  a  chapel,  where  you 
can  come  to  find  Him  who  revealed  to  the  world  the 
beauty,  the  value,  the  fecondity  of  this  suffering,  a 
chapel  to  which  you  can  come  and  contemplate  the 
Crucified  One,  the  Man  of  Nazareth,  who  left  us, 
saying  as  He  went :  '  Love  one  another,  give  your  lives 
for  each  other;  the  great  proof  of  love  is  that  we  should 
be  ready  to  give  our  lives  for  those  we  love.'  He  went 
about  repeating  this  until  that  day  when,  still  quite 
young,  only  thirty-three  years  of  age,  in  the  prime  of 
His  manhood,  adding  example  to  precept,  freely  and 
courageously,  and,  in  the  sight  of  His  broken-hearted 
mother,  He  took  up  the  cross  and  dragged  it  along 
through  the  city  and  across  the  country  to  Calvary. 
He  was  then  stretched  upon  it  and  for  three  long, 
mortal  hours,  under  the  rays  of  the  sun,  He  hung 
upon  that  cross,  dying  for  those  He  had  loved. 

"You  need  a  chapel  for  those  evil  hours  when, 
suddenly,  you  fail  to  understand  the  meaning  of  your 
siiffering  and  begin  to  pity  yourself,  wondering  why 
the  lot  should  have  fallen  on  you,  why  you  should 
have  lost  that  arm,  that  hand,  that  fine  workman's 


The  St.  Elisabeth  Chapel         375 

tool  which  was  your  glory,  and  with  which  you  earned 
your  living?  'Why  should  my  life  be  cut  in  two  by 
this  mutilation?'  you  ask.  'Why  should  my  youth 
come  to  an  end  half  way?  Why  should  I  be  doomed 
to  drag  out  a  miserable  existence?  Why  is  all  this? 
And  of  what  use  is  all  that  blood  poured  out  obscurely 
in  the  trenches? ' 

"When  these  gloomy  thoughts  come  to  you  and 
your  soul  is  filled  with  bitter  agony,  you  need  a  chapel, 
to  which  you  can  come  and  hear  the  divine  reply  to 
your  human  complaint,  the  reply  given  by  that  very 
mouth  which  revealed  to  the  world  the  benefits  of 
suffering,  the  value  and  the  virtue  of  blood  that  is  shed 
for  the  sake  of  love.  It  is  here,  in  this  chapel,  that 
He  will  repeat  to  you  and  explain  to  you  the  mysteri- 
ous words  He  addressed  to  His  disciples,  three  days 
before  He  went  up  to  Calvary. 

'"Except  a  com  of  wheat  fall  into  the  ground  and 
die,  it  abideth  alone:  but  if  it  die,  it  bringeth  forth 
much  fruit. 

'"And  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up  from  the  earth,  will  draw 
all  men  unto  me.' 

"His  disciples  did  not  understand  this  at  first,  but 
gradually  their  eyes  were  opened  to  this  new  light, 
and  very  soon  the  world  knew  the  law  of  life,  which 
was  to  be  one  of  the  most  beautiful  truths  of  Chris- 
tianity: 'When  a  just  man  dies,  out  of  his  suffering 
and  death  shall  spring  wonderful  fruits  of  hght,  of 
truth,  and  of  justice,  and  life  shall  become  better 
thereby.'  The  martyrs  gave  their  blood  courageously, 
and  on  their  tombs  their  brothers  repeat  joyfully  the 
great  Christian  words: 

'"Sanguis     mart}T\mi     semen      Christianorum ! ' 
(From  the  blood  of  martyrs  have  sprung  Christians!) 


37^  Brave  Belgians 

"You  will  come  here,  dear  friends,  to  learn  to 
understand  the  sublime  utility  of  your  wounds  and  of 
your  suffering,  to  learn  that  the  trench  is  not  a  trench, 
but  a  furrow,  and  that  the  blood  you  have  shed  there 
is  as  a  seed  which  will  soon  give  its  beautiful  fruit  of 
happiness  and  liberty  to  those  you  love.  Thanks  to 
your  blood,  your  country  will  live!  Come  often  to 
this  little  chapel,  where  Christ  is  always  awaiting  you. 
He  awaits  you  here  as  His  brothers,  as  those  whom  He 
loves  best,  who  resemble  Him  the  most.  Come  here 
and  pray  and  remember  that  your  prayer  is  the  most 
efficacious  one  of  all  those  that  are  uttered  on  earth, 
because  it  is  your  blood  crying  to  God.  Come  and 
pray  for  all  those  for  whom  your  heart  is  filled  with 
love,  for  your  aged  mother,  for  your  little  children  and 
for  those  who  are  awaiting  you  in  your  saddened  home. 
Pray  that  they  may  have  hope  and  courage  given 
them.  Come  and  pray  for  your  brothers-in-arms, 
those  who  are  continuing  the  great  struggle  in  which 
you  fell  whilst  doing  your  part  as  brave  men.  Pray 
that  God  may  keep  them  courageous  and  strong. 
Come  and  pray,  too,  for  the  men  and  women  who 
are  devoting  themselves  so  admirably  to  you  here, 
for  those  who  are  helping  to  relieve  your  suffering 
and  to  heal  you.  Pray  that  they  may  have  strength 
given  them  to  carry  out  their  work  of  pure  abnegation 
and  charity.  Come  and  pray  for  the  great  cause  of 
the  Allies,  the  cause  of  right  and  justice,  which  is  the 
cause  of  God.  Pray  too,  that  He  may  soon  make  it 
triumph  gloriously.  Come  and  pray  for  our  beloved 
country,  the  noble  martyr  to  honour.  Pray  that  our 
country  may  know,  as  Christ  knew,  the  great  repara- 
tion, the  supreme  rehabilitation,  and  that  after  having 
descended  to  death,  to  the  death  of  the  Cross,  our 


The  St.  Elisabeth  Chapel        377 

country  may  be  raised  by  God,  that  she  may  obtain  a 
name  above  all  names,  that  every  head  may  b<nv 
before  her  in  the  whole  universe,  and  that  every 
tongue  shall  confess  that  this  little  nation  is  truly  jjrcat 
among  all  nations.  Come  and  pray,  come  and  pray 
often  for  Him  and  for  Her  who  represent,  so  mag- 
nificently, oar  country  and  in  whom  it  is  incarnated 
for  us.  Come  and  pray  for  the  King  and  for  the 
Queen." 


The  Ent). 


Belgium 

and 

The  Great  Powers 

By 
Emile  Waxweiler 

/2°.     $1.00  net.     By  mail,  $LtO 

The  eminent  scholar,  Emile  Waxweiler, 
Director  of  the  Solvay  Institute  of  Sociology 
at  Brussels,  presents  a  thesis  which  it  will  be 
difficult  for  his  opponents  to  disprove. 

With  calm,  dispassionate  judgment,  he  up- 
holds Belgium's  right  to  oppose  the  violation 
of  her  territory  by  Germany,  citing  with  tell- 
ing force  the  Treaty  of  1839,  and  subsequent 
events  of  international  importance,  such  as 
Lord  Palmerston's  action  at  the  time  of 
threatened  French  aggression  in  1848. 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


Belgium: 

Neutral  and  Loyal 

The  War  of  1914 

By 
Emile  Waxweiler 

Director  of  the  Solvay  Institute  of  Sociology  at  Brussels, 
Member  of  the  Acad^mie  Royale  of  Belgium 

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In  order  to  clarify  opinion  and  to  correct 
wrong  judgment,  the  author  has  not  deemed  it 
superfluous  to  weigh  in  the  balance  all  the  im- 
putations that  have  been  made  against  Belgium, 
even  to  the  inclusion  of  those  that  do  violence  to 
common  sense.  There  are  five  chapters,  with 
the  following  titles:  "Up  to  7  P.M.  of  August 
2d,"  "  To  Be  or  Not  To  Be,"  "  Belgian  Neutral- 
ity," "  Imputations  against  the  Loyalty  of 
Belgium,"  "  German  Rules  of  Waging  War  and 
their  Application  to  Belgimn." 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


"The  War  and 

Humsoiity" 

By 
James  M.  Beck 

A  Notable  Sequel  to  "The  £^adence  in  the 
Case" 

"  Mr.  Beck's  volume  was  a  classic  the  moment  it  ap- 
peared. We  know  of  no  more  logical  and  lucid  discussion 
of  the  essential  facts  and  problems  of  the  great  war,  nor 
any  more  truly,  consistently,  and  even  vigorously  Amer- 
ican in  its  spirit.  We  should  be  well  content  to  let  it 
stand,  if  there  were  no  other,  as  the  authentic  expres- 
sion of  the  highest  aspirations,  the  broadest  and  most 
penetrating  vision,  and  the  most  profound  convictions  of 
the  American  nation  on  matters  which  have  never  been 
surpassed  and  have  only  twice  been  rivalled  in  vital  in- 
terests in  all  our  history." — New  York  Tribune. 

THEODORE  ROOSEVELT'S  OPINION 

"It  is  the  kind  of  a  book,  which  every  self-respecting 
American,  who  loves  his  country,  should  read." 


Revised  and  Enlarged  Edition  ^^ 
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G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


The  Evidence  in 
the  Case 

A  Discussion  of  the  Morad  Responsibility  for  the  War  of 

1914,  as  Disclosed  by  the  Diplomatic  Records 

of  England,  Germany,  Russizi,  France 

Austria,  and  Belgium 

By 
JAMES  M.  BECK,  LL.D. 

Late  Assistant  Attorney-General  of  the  U.  S. 
With  an  Introduction  by 

The  Hon.  JOSEPH  H.  CHOATE 

Late  U.  S.  Ambassador  to  Great  Britain 

14th  Printing — Revised  Edition  with  much  Additional 

Material 
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"  Mr.  Beck's  book  is  so  extremely  interesting 
from  beginning  to  end  that  it  is  difficult  when 
once  begun  to  lay  it  down  and  break  ofif  the 
reading,  and  we  are  not  surprised  to  hear  not 
only  that  it  has  had  an  immense  sale  in  England 
and  America,  but  that  its  translation  into  the 
languages  of  the  other  nations  of  Europe  has 
been  demanded." — Hon.  Joseph  H.  Choaie  in 
The  New  York  Times. 

New  York        G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons  London 


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